No Sanctuary for Old Men
by emilyshurricane
Summary: When cerulean eyes met molten amber, Daphne felt drunk on him. The combination of adrenaline and his utter maleness was heady, and she took in his slicked dark hair and salt and pepper beard with a ragged breath. He smelled like leather and cigars and paradise and she wanted to squirm from the heat.
1. I - Waystation

Daphne was sick of the apocalypse fucking her up the proverbial ass.

She'd been all over the continental US, doing what she had to to survive. Due to her small stature and affliction of being a lone female, she'd become jaded to other human beings.

But the idea of a place to build a home called to her. A settlement to call her own.

The problem was, she hadn't yet found a place that wasn't full of dipshits.

She was currently spending a few days working at a settlement in return for food to continue her travels, and this place was no different. The people were meek little squirrels, and she had no idea how they'd survived this long.

But they had a full pantry and a vegetable garden, so she'd offered to help fix up one of their houses in exchange for supplies.

Daphne clipped on a tool belt and hefted a ladder up on her shoulder. She moved through the early morning light towards the house in question.

"Hey, Daphne," Mark greeted her from his porch, trotting down the steps. He was the organizer of the settlement, or at least she'd assumed as much. He seemed to be the one everyone deferred to, but he was so often asking everyone else's opinion that she was amazed he knew to wipe front to back.

"Morning," she replied with a warm smile. She was good at acting friendly when it benefitted her. The short blue eyed girl with long blonde hair had a knack for putting people at ease.

"I need your help this morning before we start on the house." He scratched the back of his head nervously, and she raised an eyebrow. "We have a shipment going out."

A shipment? "To who?" Daphne asked, setting the ladder against the porch railing. She wasn't aware that these people were affiliated with other settlements.

"They call themselves the Saviors." Mark pursed his lips, and she didn't miss the flicker of fear that ran across his soft features. "We give them supplies every week."

She waited for him to continue, but he didn't. "Why?" she prompted. Surely they would get something in return.

"Because they'll kill us otherwise." His voice was gruff.

"Christ," she let out a whoosh of breath. "I guess you guys aren't exactly in a position to fight them, huh?" She looked around the meager subdivision, mostly populated with middle aged people that looked like they had never done hard labour in their lives. Barely any of them even carried weapons.

"They rolled in here a few months ago." Mark started walking towards the pantry, and she strode next to him. "Told us we could give them weekly supplies or they'd just take everything we had."

"Not a very good deal," Daphne said.

"No." He paused and swallowed. "I didn't agree right away, and he had his men beat Justin until I said we'd do it." She assumed Justin was the cook with the misshapen nose.

"So there was a leader, then?" She opened the door of the garage that was the makeshift pantry.

"Simon, he called himself." Mark shook his head. "But he's just the liaison. Their leader's name is Negan."


	2. II - Saviors

Daphne carried a crate of canned goods to the road, flanking Mark and three other guys she didn't remember the names of. They had two crates of fresh produce as well as hers.

She was curious about the Saviors. This couldn't be the only settlement they'd made a 'deal' with, and with weekly pickups like this, they must have a lot of people to feed. And being able to send out a group of tough enough people to subdue an entire community without their leader present? That spoke volumes in itself.

A pickup truck bustled up the dirt road and skidded to a stop in front of us. Five guys stepped out slowly, and one with a handlebar mustache and a confident gait strode forward. Daphne had him pegged as Simon before he even opened his mouth.

"Okay, guys," Mark urged, a note of panic in his voice, motioning the crateholders forward. Daphne was last, stacking her box on top of the other two, and Simon bent to look at her.

"You're new," he drawled with a smile.

"Just passing through, stopped to help out for a few days in return for supplies." She offered him a smile in return, and confidently extended her hand to him. "Daphne."

"Simon," he replied, and they shook. He didn't let go of her as he peered over her head at Mark. "You're not holding out on me, are you buddy? You aren't building numbers back there, are you?"

"N-no, sir." Mark shook his head enthusiastically. "She's a traveler. We t-try to help people."

"That you do!" Simon said jovially, and let go of Daphne's hand. "And where might you be traveling to?"

"I didn't have a destination in mind," she said conversationally, shifting her weight and putting a delicate-looking hand on her hip. "But the Saviors piqued my interest."

"Mark's been talking about us, hm?" Simon raised an eyebrow. "Do we need to have another chat with one of your men?"

"N-no!" one of the men behind Daphne cried shrilly, and she rolled her eyes.

"These sad sods are in your pocket, not to worry." She smiled when Simon's attention returned to her. "I've been looking for a community of people that aren't complete pussies. And you guys seem to fit the bill."

"Daphne!" Mark sounded hurt, but she didn't turn to look at him.

The mustached man laughed, looking back and forth to his men for effect. "Are you for real?" He took in her expression and shook his head. "You wouldn't be white knighting these sad sods, as you put it?"

"Do I look like I'm stupid enough to try to singlehandedly take out an organization that's so big it can afford to send groups out weekly to intimidate people into giving them supplies?" Daphne asked, and Simon laughed again.

"Our reputation precedes us." He spread his arms and motioned her forward. "It's your lucky day, lady. We've got some recruits to process today. Be a good girl and take those crates into the back, will you?"

"Daphne!" Mark cried again, a hint of anger in his panicked voice. She picked up a crate and turned to him.

"No hard feelings, yeah?" she said, trying to sound apologetic. She failed, according to the scowl on his face. "We're all trying to survive the apocalypse, and I need a crew that can keep up with me." She smirked, and inclined her head to Simon. "Thanks for introducing us."


	3. III - Scarface

Daphne sat on a bench outside of a massive compound with seven men, watching lackeys chaining up walkers to the fence before her.

During her ride in the back of Simon's truck, she'd conversed with one of his guys. She got the impression he was a bit of a douchebag, but he was chatty and she wanted a lay of the land she was heading to.

He'd proclaimed Negan 'the provider', saying that they were called the Saviors because their leader literally saved people. They had a huge community and though it was a dictatorship, it kept everyone safe and fed and healthy.

"We're all Negan," he'd said with pride, and Daphne found her interest even more piqued than before. This man seemed larger than life. He was a ruthless dictator from what she could tell, and had acquired some serious power for himself. She could help but admire that.

The men sitting along the bench all looked desolate and miserable, and Daphne wondered where they'd come from. Simon had called them recruits, but she wondered if they'd been forcibly removed from somewhere.

A tough looking guy with a grotesque burn on one side of his face strode towards the group and frowned. With his strawberry locks, he might have been handsome under that melted skin.

"Alright, grunts," he said in a raspy voice, and Daphne was pretty certain he wasn't Negan. She imagined the man with a smile and a swagger. She stood up and extended her hand.

"Hi," she said brightly, "I'm Daphne."

He paused, taken aback, and then brushed past her. She lowered her hand with a scowl. Rude.

He stood before them, eyeing up the group of men who now looked like kicked puppies. Daphne sat back down with a small noise of dissatisfaction.

"We have a two week probation here at the Sanctuary," Scarface said, starting to pace back and forth. "You keep your head down, follow the rules, assimilate into society. Then you get an interview, and you're either in and we assign you a job, or you're not." He didn't need to add any more to that sentence for the recruits to understand that failing the probation meant unpleasantness.

"Just kill me now." The man beside Daphne murmured, and she gaped at him.

"You're not even going to try?" she asked, not unkindly. A tear slipped down the man's face and he avoided her gaze. "They must have done a number on you."

"We can break you the hard way if that's what you want." Scarface stepped closer. The smell of cigarettes wafted off of him and Daphne breathed deeply, hoping she could score some here.

"No, he's fine!" another man piped up. "We'll be good."

"Will you?" Scarface leaned down to eye level with the first man. "Will you be good?" The man didn't reply, and his captor dragged him off of the bench by his hair. "The hard way, then."


	4. IV - Points for Puppies

Life at the Sanctuary was definitely interesting. Daphne watched and listened, soaking up as much information as she could. If she wanted to make a name for herself here, she had to be useful, and she felt that knowledge was power in a place like this.

She avoided her fellow recruits, the morose motherfuckers seemingly depressed by this situation. She didn't know how long they would last, and she hadn't seen the crying guy since Scarface had dragged him away that first day.

She desperately wanted to meet Negan. Even just catch a glimpse of him. People talked about him like he was a god that they respected and feared. For the most part, the inhabitants that worked and lived in the Sanctuary seemed to be appreciative of him. There were those that didn't really speak either way, and Daphne thought that maybe they weren't as happy about their lives, but didn't say anything for fear of retribution.

The bartering system was pretty straightforward. Everyone worked for points, and then those points were used as currency. The recruits were given just enough for three meals a day, and while the food was delicious, she wanted more.

First on her list was cigarettes. She knew she'd need to acquire more points or give up some food, and she wasn't willing to do that. So she needed to find somewhere to work.

Daphne wandered through the marketplace, easily the biggest area in the compound. There were stands for essentials, like toiletries and over the counter medication. There were a few women selling herbal remedies, and fresh herbs and oils, which meant there was a distilling station somewhere, perhaps an apothecary.

There were even artisans. A large corner slot in the marketplace featured a middle aged couple with a carpentry set up, making furniture but also wooden art pieces.

Daphne picked up a little wooden dog and smiled. It looked just like the beagle she'd had in her past life.

"Do you like dogs?" a young male asked, and she looked up into a pair of chocolate eyes. The boy couldn't be older than twelve.

"I do," she replied with a smile. "I used to have a little hound. Her name was Josie."

"I've always wanted one." The boy picked up a carving of a large wolf. "I got a book from the library with all the breeds so I can make one of each."

"You made this?" Daphne raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah." He blushed. "I'm still learning to make the big stuff. My parents let me do cutting boards by myself but I like carving."

She glanced at the couple, who were busy clamping a table together. "Are there other kids here?" she asked.

"Uh huh." The boy nodded, pointing to the double doors behind her. "There's a whole kids wing down that way. We kinda do school, but only a couple classes a day."

"I guess the apocalypse has no need for advanced calculus." Daphne set the carving back down. "Once I earn some points I'm coming back for this. Set it aside for me, yeah?"

The boy grinned widely. "Really?" He immediately pocketed the little dog, and then extended his hand. "I'm Byron."

"Daphne," she said, and shook his small hand. "Keep at it, little artist." She gave him a little salute and continued on her way. The kid reminded her of a little brother she'd had and lost, long before the apocalypse.

She stopped at the sight of a long table covered in neatly folded clothes, flanked by a disheveled looking red haired woman pinning a long length of silky black fabric. Daphne poked at the garments for sale, noting only functional gear like khaki shorts and tank tops.

"Bugger," the woman cursed and shoved a finger in her mouth, having stabbed herself from rushing her work.

"Need a hand?" Daphne asked, appraising the multitude of sewing machines set up with quite a bit of workspace.

"Of course I need a hand, I always need ten fucking hands," came the irritated reply, in a thick accent that sounded like she'd just gotten off the boat from England.

"Ooh, you have a working overlock machine?" The recruit couldn't help herself and strode around the table to examine the old serger on the back work bench. "Singers really do last forever."

"If you keep them tuned up." The seamstress looked on curiously, having forgotten about her finger. "You know your way around a sewing machine?"

"I know a thing or two." Daphne turned to her.

"Why haven't you been bloody assigned to me then?" The redhead put her hands on her hips.

"I'm still on probation."

"Of fucking course you are." The seamstress waved her off and turned back to her pinning. "Get out of my workspace."

"Look, I need points." Daphne leaned against the table. "And I'll go nuts without something to do while I wait out my probation."

"If you're still on probation they won't give you points," she huffed. "You can't just walk up to any old person and ask for a fucking job."

"Then pay me some of yours," the blonde insisted. "I don't need much, just enough for cigarettes. I was hoping to buy some clothes but if I'm working for you I can make my own."

"You want me to sublet my points?"

"You're fucking stubborn." Daphne pursed her lips. "Give me something to work on, I'll prove my usefulness."

"I'm fucking stubborn, she says," the seamstress motioned to a pile of garments on the workbench. "Those need repairing. Get them done and I'll think about it."


	5. V - Pretty Satin Things

The seamstress, whose name turned out to be Nicola, was impressed with the neatly folded stack of pants and shirts that Daphne had repaired in less than an hour.

"You weren't kidding." The redhead examined the perfectly neat little stitches that the recruit had hand sewn. She'd easily fixed all of the tears and missing buttons on the garments, and Nicola made noises of satisfaction as she sorted through them. "Alright, clean up your workspace and I'll go get you your fags."

"Am I hired, then?" Daphne asked.

"I said I'd think about it," Nicola huffed and strode away.

The blonde chuckled to herself, feeling like she'd won. She already knew she'd be staying here, she'd make sure of it. She needed to make sure she was useful, and showing enough people that was imperative. She needed to impress Negan, the trick was to figure out how without having met the man himself.

So she figured key people close to him would be her ticket in. She wasn't sure how far up the food chain Nicola was, but with her seemingly being the only seamstress, Daphne figured she was likely well-known.

After cleaning up the bits of thread and excess fabric from her workspace, she turned to examine the garment Nicola had been building. It was a slinky black dress, something very different than the functional garb around her. Who could this possibly be for?

"Nice fabric is hard to come by," Nicola said as she tossed a pack of cigarettes on the table. "Of course the slags upstairs get first dibs. Negan likes his wives wrapped up like Christmas presents."

"Wives?"

"Jesus, you really are new." The seamstress rolled her eyes. "Big boss has five wives, and they are spoiled rotten. But I guess shagging King Savior should have perks."

"Is he gross or something?"

"Fuck no, he's fit." Nicola shook her head. "But it's unlikely that they're up there for any reason other than not having to work with the rest of us."

Daphne raised an eyebrow, a thought niggling in the back of her brain. "So he likes you to make sexy outfits for his ladies, then?"

"He is a man, after all." The redhead laughed, and held up the unfinished dress. There were ample bits of black silk leftover.

"Mind if I work these into something useable?" The recruit wiggled her fingers over the bits as she formulated a rough pattern in her head. "Off the clock, of course."

"You don't have a clock yet," Nicola swept the material at her. "Go for it, if you're gagging for it that badly."

Daphne scooped up the fabric and laid it out next to the overlock machine, smiling at having found a way to impress the Big Boss without even needing to meet him.


	6. VI - Cigarettes and Beer

Daphne audibly moaned at the first drag of the cigarette, her body singing at finally being gifted with nicotine. She leaned on the metal railing of the walkway, enjoying the cool night air on her hot skin.

"Been a while?" A female voice came from behind her, and Daphne turned to see yet another redhead leaning against the concrete wall.

"Almost a week," the blonde admitted, and took another deep drag. "I'd been hoping to grab some from the last settlement I stopped in, but they'd all given up smoking."

The redhead laughed. "Ah, you must be the new recruit that ruffled Dwight's feathers."

"Dwight?"

"About yay high, blue eyes?" The woman held her hand above her head. "Melted face?"

"Oh, Scarface." Daphne nodded. "He didn't seem excited by me." She was happy with this news, however, that word was getting around about her.

"Something along the lines of 'congenital valley girl'," the woman said with a smile.

"Excuse me for being polite." The blonde pouted, feigning upset. "All I did was introduce myself."

"Dwight is a bit of a buzzkill." The redhead stepped forward, extending her hand. "I'm Paula."

"Daphne," she replied as they shook. "You work with Dwight, then?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Paula nodded. "But I run my own ship. My team is solid."

"Team?"

"I oversee a supply run group," she explained.

"Oh ok, like Simon does?" Daphne asked innocently, realizing that this woman could be a fountain of information.

"I'm not quite as charming as Simon." Paula gave a wry smile and turned, motioning for the recruit to follow. "Come have a drink."

"There's a bar here?" Daphne raised an eyebrow. "Of course there's a bar here." She strode next to the redhead as they chatted, asserting her confidence at being equal.

She learned that Paula, Simon and Dwight were among a group of Lieutenants, the highest rank in Negan's camp. Though Dwight was commonly referred to as the 'right hand man', meaning the others referred to him as 'the favourite'.

They entered the bar, which was handily just down the hall from the infirmary.

"Hey, baby." A rugged-looking man grabbed Paula's waist and pulled her back against him.

"Guys, this is Daphne," the redhead said, swatting the man's hand when it went for her ass.

"I guess you do look like you just walked out of Beverly Hills," a dark haired woman with almond eyes commented, and held out a beer. "I'm Michelle."

Daphne took the beer and immediately sipped it, relishing in the cold carbonated crispness on her tongue.

Paula smirked. "Been awhile for that too?"

"I can't even remember the last time I had a beer," the blonde moaned happily. "Let alone a cold one."

"I'm Donnie," the man trying to grope Paula said petulantly, put out he hadn't been introduced.

"I'm off to bed," an older woman sitting at the table said, standing up. "Talia could probably use a break."

"Why doesn't Primo give her a break?" Michelle teased.

"Because I want to snuggle my damn grandbaby," the woman chuffed. "And Primo could probably use some alone time with his wife."

Donnie smirked. "They're not gonna bang, they're gonna sleep."

"All they have to do is hug and she'll be pregnant again." The woman sounded almost proud.

"Night, Molly," Paula said with a wave.

"That woman does not look old enough to be a grandma," Daphne said, taking the now vacant seat.

"None of us know how old she actually is." Michelle shrugged. "But she's got three grandkids."

"Wow," Daphne said, genuinely flabbergasted. "This place really is a Sanctuary, huh?"

Donnie raised his beer. "Sure is!"


	7. VII - What We're Fighting For

Daphne spent the next few days working with Nicola, who still refused to officially hire her. The blonde figured it was either stubborn pride or that she didn't want to break any rules about recruits earning points. Maybe both.

After dinner she'd wander the compound, familiarizing herself with the layout, exits, and defenses. She was impressed by the tightness of it all, the overwhelming feeling of safety within the gates of the Sanctuary.

In the evenings she'd have a few beers with Paula and her crew, and found herself transitioning from building rapport to actual friendship. These badass bitches (Donnie included) were her kind of people; tough war hardened go-getters instead of simply survivors.

It was on the sixth night of her probation that Daphne found herself in Talia's quarters, having offered to help out while Paula's crew were on an overnight supply run.

She stared down at the sky blue eyes of the infant in her arms and couldn't help but smile. She'd never thought about kids, even in her life before, having been so focused on her career. But looking at the plump face of a baby was enough to make her heart swell and her ovaries feel like they were going to explode.

"Thank you so much." Talia sighed as she exited the older kids' bedroom. "They are so much easier to get to sleep if I don't have Lily in my arms."

"Anytime," Daphne replied with a genuine smile. Talia was a gentle looking woman with chocolate hair and matching eyes. Even the long scar winding its way from cheek to collarbone looked delicate.

"I think it's just jealousy, you know? Breastfeeding babies get all the attention," she explained, and sat down on the plush couch with a glass of water.

Daphne leaned back. "This place is a lot nicer than the barracks."

"Yeah, being married to a Savior has its perks," Talia joked. "Don't worry, once you're done your probation you'll get your own room. There are some shared ones for people that want them but if you want your own space the single rooms are cozy."

Lily squawked, balling up her fists like she was ready to fight.

"Little UFC fighter in the making." Daphne laughed as she handed the baby over, who could barely contain herself as Talia pulled her shirt down.

"It's weird to think about their futures, you know?" She sighed. "Like what will the world be like once they're grown up? Will we still be here? Will there still be walkers? Danger? Or will society have been rebuilt somehow?"

"Hard to say," Daphne replied. "I think we just need to take things one day at a time."

Her companion nodded in agreement.

The blonde noticed some framed photos on the side table. "You have a camera?"

"Oh, some people have Polaroids kicking around, but those are from Colin, our resident journalist," Talia explained. "He worked for Time magazine before all this and is determined to document everything that happens here for future generations. Or, he says, for aliens that stop by when we're all dead." She laughed at Daphne's raised eyebrow. "Yeah, I know. He's an odd duck. He's got some photo equipment that has been scrounged up for him, and our chemist helped him build a functioning darkroom. He tries to conserve his supplies, but also wants to make sure that everyone has at least one photo of themselves."

"That's sweet." Daphne smiled at the family picture of Talia, Primo, and their two round faced munchkins. They looked maybe four and two, and Talia was clearly pregnant. "A chemist, too?"

"Negan collects people."

"What's he like?" Daphne blurted it out before thinking; she'd been trying not to seem too eager for information with the others. This woman's kind nature seemed to put her at too much ease.

"He's terrifying," Talia admitted thoughtfully, "but charming. He's unpredictable, but the one constant that I can tell is that he cares for his people. He and the Saviors defend this place fiercely. I know some of what they do might not be... terribly moral. But he does what he has to to keep us safe and actually living a life instead of just surviving, you know?"

Daphne nodded. She did know. She'd been watching these people.

"Some think he's completely insane," Talia continued, "but I think you have to be to be a leader. The one that has to make all the hard decisions."

Lily snorted a loud snore and both women chuckled.

"I think that's your cue to get some rest." Daphne stood. "I can come by in the morning and help you get everyone down to breakfast, if you need?"

"You're a savior." Talia sighed thankfully, and then they shared another laugh.

"Maybe someday." Daphne smiled, and as she left the little apartment she silently assured herself that it would be someday soon.


	8. VIII - Tryst

Daphne strode the perimeter of the compound, enjoying a cigarette before heading off to bed. The sky was clear, stars twinkling overhead, and she let herself bask in the sight. She'd spent a long time not appreciating things like the beauty of the night sky, even before the apocalypse.

The sound of hushed voices broke her out of her reverie, and she instinctively pressed herself back against the concrete wall in the shadows.

"It's better than being dead." The husky male voice sounded familiar.

Daphne inched closer to the corner of the wall and peeked slightly around it.

"Is it?" A female in a black dress stood next to a dumpster, with puffy red eyes. "It doesn't feel like it."

"Then what do you suggest we do, Sherry?" the man hissed, and Daphne's eyes widened when she realized it was Scarface. "We can't just leave."

"Yes we can!" Sherry grasped his shirt in her fists. "We can."

"He'll follow us," Dwight replied, but he sounded weak and defeated.

"I have a plan, you just need to help me," the dark haired woman pleaded. "I've written letters implicating some people that will account for my absence, and then Negan will send you out after me. By the time he starts to wonder if you're dead we'll be far enough away."

"Implicating who?"

Sherry shook her head. "It doesn't matter." She reached into the bodice of her dress and Daphne absently wondered if she was wearing the lingerie she'd made her first day.

"What is this?" Dwight unfolded the piece of paper she'd produced.

"It's a map, with a safe route north," she explained, "and if we follow it we can get far enough away he won't be able to find us."

"Why now?" He stared at the map, eyes glossing over. "Why not when we were already out?"

"I was afraid," Sherry admitted, eyes downcast. "My sister had just died and I thought this was the only safe place. And maybe it is. But it's hell for me. I can't keep pretending I'm okay with being without you. Looking at your face, the pain you had to deal with because you tried to save my sister." She grasped his shirt again, voice cracking. "I miss my husband. My real husband."

Dwight let out a ragged breath. "I... Sherry..." he stammered, and she cut him off with her lips.

It was a hungry, desperate kiss, full of longing and wishes.

He reluctantly pushed her away, and shoved the map in his pocket. "Give me a few days to think," he said, wiping at his eyes.

She nodded. "Okay. But I'm going with or without you. When I disappear, you have to make your choice."

"You should get back." Dwight's voice was low, almost a whisper.

Sherry hesitated, and half reached out to touch him again. She hesitated, and turned, heading back towards the nearby door.

As soon as it closed behind her, Dwight kicked the dumpster with a yell and collapsed to his knees, breathing hard.

Daphne crept back the way she had come, as silently as possible. She'd stumbled across the best information she could have hoped for.


	9. IX - Little Dragons

"But apples are red, not green." Talia's oldest, Patrick, pouted.

His mother sighed, not sure how to explain to a six year old that he needed to appreciate what food he was given.

"Green things are way better than red things," Daphne said, and reached over to his plate. "Like lizards. You ever seen one?"

Patrick shook his head, pout slightly receding. "Only in school."

"My roommate in college had chameleons." She started to organize his apple slices in the shape of a reptile, doing her best to make a curly tail. "They had super long tongues and could grab crickets from across their cage. They were the coolest brightest green, and looked like little dragons."

"Can't they change colours?" he asked petulantly, and Talia stifled a giggle.

"They sure can, little biologist," Daphne replied. "But you know the only colour they can't turn?" She smiled and he shook his head. "Red."

His eyes widened and he looked down at his plate. "That doesn't really look like a chameleon," he protested, but took a bite of one of the slices.

She laughed. "I'm not a very good artist."

He shrugged, digging into his apple with vigor once he realized it tasted delicious.

"Thank you." Talia smiled.

Daphne shook her head. "When all they have is red apples, you might be screwed again," she said.

"Give me my baby!" Molly cried as she strode over, looking ragged from her travels.

"Ugh, mom, you smell disgusting." Talia wrinkled her nose but handed Lily to her grandmother anyway.

"I must have forgot to bathe in the five star resort we were vacationing at," Molly cooed, kissing Lily's forehead with love in her eyes.

Paula dropped a backpack on the seat next to Daphne with a smile. "Found this for you," she said. "Make me something pretty."

The blonde curiously peeked in the bag, and her eyes lit up at the folded fabric inside. "Thank you." She blinked up at her new friend.

Paula waved it off and headed to the serving area where the rest of her crew ravenously loaded up their plates.

"Slow repair day, sod off," Nicola barked as Daphne slipped behind the table with her prize.

"Works for me, I have some personal projects to work on," she replied, holding up the backpack.

The redhead raised an eyebrow. "With my fucking thread and machines?"

"If you'd pay me what I'm worth, I'd have points to buy materials," Daphne pointed out, and received a grunt in return. She knew that was the most approval she was going to get, and spread out her prize on the back worktable.

By the time lunch break rolled around, Daphne was putting the finishing touches on a tiny pink pinafore for Lily, having already completed a red satin lingerie set for Paula.

Nicola had seemed to ignore her for most of the morning, though the blonde had caught her side glancing her a few times. The older woman finally came and inspected Daphne's garments, pursing her lips.

"Needs a ribbon," she said gruffly, and knelt down. She pulled out a small wooden box and rummaged inside, pulling out a long strip of thick white silk.

Daphne accepted it with a smirk.

Nicola scowled. "You bloody owe me when you start earning your keep."

"Of course," Daphne said, voice sugary sweet.

The redhead turned and left for lunch, leaving a satisfied seamstress in her wake.


	10. X - Arat

Daphne gawked at the smattering of equipment all over Colin's makeshift office, amazed at how much technology had been salvaged.

"Sorry for the mess," the stout bespectacled man said while rummaging through a box in the corner.

"My assistant used to say 'a messy desk is the sign of a genius'," Daphne replied, walking along a work bench covered in lenses and tools.

"I like that," Colin said, "it's a good excuse."

"She thought so." She turned, looking over a bunch of fresh pictures clothespinned to string on the far wall. There were some family portraits, but also some more artsy shots.

She smirked at a beautifully lit photo of a petite blonde draped over a plush red couch, wearing nothing but a set of familiar looking black lingerie.

"Nice boudoir pic," Daphne said.

"Not my speciality, but the Big Boss had faith in my skills." Colin shoved a bin out of the way. Her eyes widened at the contents.

"Holy shit." She reached down and picked up a shiny white iPhone. "Do these still work?"

"There should be a charger or two in there," he replied. "They obviously don't make calls, but you can take pictures. That's why I was collecting them, but we haven't yet found any working compatible computers. You didn't happen to ever work in IT, did you?"

"No." Daphne laughed, and turned the phone over in her hand. "It's really weird holding this," she admitted.

"It would be great if we could build a home network somehow- ah, there you are!" He finally found the pencil he'd dropped when she'd entered his office, and straightened up, dark curly hair askew. "That was an ordeal."

She found a white charger hiding in the bin. "Do you mind if I borrow this?" She held up the phone.

"You can have it." He waved her off, retrieving a clipboard. "As payment for your future interview." He handed her the clipboard and pencil, and she raised an eyebrow at the neatly handwritten questionnaire.

"Future?"

"Talia seems to think you'll pass your probation but I like to be sure before using up the paper." Colin leaned against his desk and crossed his arms. "This is just a questionnaire. I like to have records of everyone that comes through here whether they stay or not."

Daphne scribbled away at the page, filling out her basic personal information. "You're going to have one hell of a book someday."

He adjusted his glasses. "That's the plan. Though I'd love a transcriber and a working computer lab first."

"I'll keep a lookout for computer nerds and send them your way." She handed the clipboard back with a smile. "I should get to lunch."

"Thanks for helping Talia while her family was away," Colin said, cutting off her retreat. "She never asks for help, but she needs it sometimes."

"It was my pleasure," Daphne said, surprised to find that she meant it.

Cheers broke out across the mess hall and Daphne looked up from her lentil stew to see a group of tough looking men and women heading towards the kitchen.

The woman in front had an impressively-sized doe slung over her shoulders and one of the cooks pushed a stainless steel table out to her.

"Venison tonight, boys!" Simon hollered, stepping forward to clap the woman on the back.

"Who's that?" Daphne asked, and Paula tugged on her arm, standing up.

"Someone I'd like you to meet," she replied, and led her over to the group.

The dark haired woman smiled brightly and pulled Paula into a tight hug.

"That's what was taking you so long," the redhead teased.

"Yeah, we were tracking a buck for a few days, slippery bastard." The hunter had a slight middle eastern accent, and Daphne admired her thick black curls. "Dead ones got him, but then we found his wife," the woman continued, waving at the carcass as the chefs wheeled it away.

"Arat, this is Daphne, a new recruit." Paula motioned to the blonde, who extended her hand. "Daphne, Arat."

"Ah, the fashion designer," Arat smirked and shook the proffered hand.

The blonde raised an eyebrow. "You've heard of me?"

"When we rolled in, Fat Joey was blathering about this new chick making sexy shit for the wives," came the reply, "and Dwight looked annoyed, so I started asking questions to piss him off."

Paula laughed. "You're such a bitch," she said, shaking her head.

Arat shrugged innocently, and Daphne decided that she liked her. Based on the way the others moved around her, and her aura of authority, she could tell that she would be a powerful friend to have in this place.


	11. XI - Underground

"I thought recruits weren't allowed down here." Daphne felt a thrill of excitement run through her, but kept her rule abiding facade externally intact.

"Perk of hanging around us." Arat smiled slyly, and stopped at a grey door at the end of the long underground tunnel. She rapped three times and the door cracked open, revealing a heavy set man looking to be in his mid twenties.

"Ay, 'rat," he mumbled through a mouthful of burger.

Arat smirked. "Enjoying the venison?" Dinner had been heaven that day, and it seemed the higher ranked Saviors were enjoying extra late night feasting.

"Daphne, this is Fat Joey," Paula said, and the blonde smiled.

He didn't seem put off by the moniker, only grinned as he swallowed his mouthful, extending his hand. They shook, and there was an uproar of cheers from the far corner. She heard a wet smack, then more yelling, and Daphne realized there was a fight.

"You guys have a fight club?" she asked, eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Got to stay in tip top somehow." Arat led the way to the group, and a few bodies parted for her, revealing Simon and another Savior Daphne hadn't met.

The wiry mustached man was clearly winning, and she found herself surprised at his prowess. The fight was short lived, ending after Simon's well placed kick to his opponent's stomach.

"It's first to three hits." Paula leaned over to explain. "We all still need to be functional in the morning."

"On special occasions we get to go all out," Arat said, as Simon waved her forward.

He grinned darkly as the cinnamon skinned woman entered the circle. "Missed you, little girl."

Daphne watched carefully, enthralled by the graceful movements of the pair as they attempted to land blows on one another. They seemed oblivious to the screaming crowd, locked in a dance that they clearly knew the steps to.

Arat took first blood, double feinting and landing a fist on Simon's cheek, his face snapping to the side. He smiled wildly as he lunged for her.

"Is this foreplay?" Daphne asked in Paula's ear, and the redhead barked a laugh. It was answer enough for the blonde and she smirked at the powerful duo.

Part of Daphne wanted to inquire about participating, but she wasn't sure she wanted to showcase her skills in this forum. She was still just the observer, gathering information and building the foundation of a reputation.

She was saving herself for Negan.

Simon won the round, and Arat was a good sport about it, leaping on him piggyback style and pointing to the table of burgers. He ran there, eliciting a laugh from her, and Daphne watched with wonder.

Two warriors, allowed such an almost normal flirtation in the apocalypse.

The blonde felt a tingle and almost visibly shivered, sweeping her eyes across the crowd until she found the source of a gaze boring a hole in her head. Dwight scowled, or as much as he could scowl with a melted face.

Daphne smiled brightly at him, injecting as much happiness and warmth as she could into the expression.

He looked disgusted and turned away to speak to another Savior. She mentally pumped a fist. Kill him with kindness.

Paula led her to one of the tall tables off to the side, where Arat happily munched on a burger with two men Daphne recognized from the hunting party. One of them offered a plate of meat, and she accepted one, marveling at the smell of venison between two freshly made bun halves.

They chattered about a place called the Hilltop, led by some putz named Gregory that seemed to be a joke amongst the Saviors. Paula mentioned that her crew was to take the next outpost rotation near there in a few weeks, and was looking forward to Molly snarking the man.

Daphne noticed Dwight slipping out a little while later, and turned to Paula.

"I'm going to go have a cig and crash," she said. "Lots of clothing repairs tomorrow, thanks to some hunting party." She winked at Arat and the group shared a laugh. "Nice to meet you all." Pleasantries exchanged, she excused herself and as soon as she was out the door, she spotted Dwight turning left at the end of the hallway.

She stealthily gave chase, slipping her phone from her pocket.


	12. XII - Last Day on Earth

The next few days went by like a blur. Daphne felt almost giddy, so ready for her interview with the Big Boss that would be coming at the end of the week.

She relaxed, spending her days sewing, meals with Talia's family, and evenings with Paula and her crew. Occasionally Arat or Simon would join them for drinks, but they were often busy with Savior duties, whatever that entailed.

It was the crack of dawn on her twelfth day in the Sanctuary that she was woken by a violent fist in her hair.

She reacted immediately, reflexes thankfully not dulled by her short time of comfort and safety, lashing out for the nearest throat.

Hands grabbed her wrists from behind and she found her face inches away from a sneer of a grotesquely melted face.

"Your probation ends today, bitch," Dwight said, husky voice full of glee.

Her mind reeled. Was this sanctioned? Had Negan decided to cast her out early? Kill her? Had she messed up somewhere?

Or had Dwight figured out she knew about he and Sherry's plans and was taking her out now? She whipped her head back to see who had her wrists and her worry melted away at Arat's grinning face.

"Wake up, sluts!" she barked, and there were groans around the barracks. Dwight let go of Daphne's locks, flinging her backwards. Arat grunted and released her to flop on the bed.

"Can I at least get dressed?" Daphne asked, reaching under her pillow for her phone.

"No, we're unexpectedly kidnapping you for an unorthodox occasion." Arat grinned, and the recruit noticed the Savior had bleached the ends of her luscious curls.

"Like the new look," she said, slipping the phone into a pocket on Arat's thigh. The dark eyed woman raised an eyebrow but didn't draw attention to it.

Arat smirked. "I was up too late to bother sleeping before an early morning engagement."

Daphne's heart pounded. How long had Negan been planning this? Why like this? So she couldn't be prepared? Thank fuck Arat had been so close to receive the phone.

She followed Dwight and a few other Saviors, flanked by Arat and Fat Joey. They snaked through hallways, up stairs, and finally came through a set of double doors into a massive warehouse containing what looked like every resident of the Sanctuary.

Daphne forced herself to keep her head high, regardless of the fact that she was dressed in a grey tank and booty shorts with bare feet and mussed hair. She shoved her apprehension down deep in her gut, turning towards the balcony that the Saviors were facing.

She stood between Arat and Dwight at the front of the massive crowd. Five women in black dresses stood by the double doors behind the balcony, and Daphne immediately recognized Sherry's stoic face. The blonde from Colin's photo reached for the doorknob, and the recruit vaguely wondered if she was wearing her gifted lingerie underneath the flowing garment.

There was a shuffle as everyone started to kneel, and Arat tugged on Daphne's hand, jerking her to the floor.

"Keep your head down," she hissed, and the blonde complied, though it was taking every ounce of willpower not to look up. It was as if electricity had sparked the very air.

A long, drawn out guttural chortle filled the silent room, reverberating in Daphne's ears like a freight train. Her heart rate quickened, breath catching in her throat, warmth creeping up the back of her neck like tendrils of fire.

One bootfall on metal, another lazily following, and she could almost picture the swagger of the Big Boss as he descended the balcony steps. It felt like torture listening to him draw ever closer, and her eyelids fluttered closed to try to keep her from peeking up at the man she'd been dying to meet.

His voice was like silk drifting over gravel as it echoed over the expanse.

"Well, if it isn't just a BEAUTIFUL motherfucking morning!"


	13. XIII - The Interview

"I hope you all got some good fuckin' sleep because the sun is shinin' and today is gonna be a BIG day!" Negan's presence was overwhelming

Even though Daphne couldn't see him, a thrill danced up every vertebrae.

"Now I know I've been scarce this last week or so," he continued, deep voice sounding apologetic.

She couldn't help but wonder if he'd been an actor in his past life.

His boots hit cement, coming ever closer. "But don't worry! I've been keeping tabs on ALL of my friends here in the Sanctuary, you can bet your asses on that." He paused, in speech and step, and the silence was deafening. "What's your fuckin' name, friends?" he bellowed, and Daphne expected a chorus of the word 'savior'.

"NEGAN!" the crowd screamed, excitement rippling through the room like lightning.

Daphne started breathing again—not even having realized she hadn't been—in barely audible short gasps.

"Music to my fuckin' ears." There was a thick whoosh of air as he spoke, as if he'd swung something. Then the pacing continued, and he spoke in a conversational tone as if carrying on a story he'd been telling. "Damn near two weeks ago, Simon brought me a really nice fuckin' present," Negan said, "though I didn't know at the time how nice it really was. Shit, I still don't know how nice it is. I feel like a kid on Christmas fuckin' morning."

Daphne's lungs seized again. He was so close now, and he was talking about her. She knew it, he had to be. The buildup was damn near killing her. Did he know that? He spoke of his anticipation, but did he know that it was just as intense for her?

"I started hearing things, as I do so very often hear things." Negan's boots slowed, sliding across the cement like a snake. "This new recruit excited to join my New World Order waltzes in here, all charismatic and shit. Starts working for free, volunteering under the saltiest cunt Brit I know."

Nicola's grunt from the back caused a smattering of soft chuckles, Negan's included.

Daphne couldn't help but smile. The slight relief allowed her to open her eyes, though her head was still down.

"Then my wives receive some gifts that are just a delicious fuckin' treat. I'm not an easy man to surprise, but god damn was I fuckin' surprised. The gift that just... keeps... giving." Negan's pacing slowed to a stop with his words.

Daphne's blood pounded in her ears at the sight of black combat boots at the top of her periphery.

"Then this recruit starts making friends, with my BEST fuckin' friends, and I'm wondering: who the hell is this cocksucker?" Another whoosh, and a blast of air hit the back of Daphne's neck. "Even charmed my Arat. My fuckin' ice queen. But I wanted to be patient. Didn't want to ruin the surprise! Shit, it's been hard. So fuckin' hard I couldn't wait another two days. Can't wait to see what Santa Simon brought me." One of the boots slid slightly as Negan shifted his weight. "On your feet," he commanded, and the entire congregation, Daphne included, stood.

She kept her eyes focused on his boots, blonde waves obscuring most of her vision.

"Look me in the fucking eye." Negan's authority thrummed through her, and her head moved as if in slow motion.

Fitted grey jeans housed strong legs. A brown belt slung around well built hips, peeking out from beneath the hem of a simple white shirt that didn't quite hide an athletic midsection. An almost pristine looking black leather jacket embraced his upper body, adorned with zippers and straps. A blood red scarf completed the look, the colour of passion splayed across his neck.

When cerulean eyes met molten amber, Daphne felt drunk on him. The combination of adrenaline and his utter maleness was heady, and she took in his slicked dark hair and salt and pepper beard with a ragged breath. He smelled like leather and cigars and paradise and she wanted to squirm from the heat.

His gaze was piercing atop defined cheekbones. It felt like he was searching within her very mind, and she'd never felt so examined in her entire life.

His lips suddenly curled into an amused smirk, and time started moving again.

"Hell, aren't you just the sweetest fuckin' slice of apple pie," Negan drawled, and just like that, Daphne felt her confidence slam back into her like a jackhammer.

He'd tried to catch her unprepared, but here she was, a woman who'd built such a reputation that King Shit himself couldn't wait two weeks to meet her. She had her ace in the hole and now all she had to do was nail this interview.

"I prefer strawberry," her eyes twinkled with deviousness and he took a step back, putting a hand over his stomach as he let out a laugh.

His other hand fell from his shoulder, bringing a deadly barbed wire wrapped baseball bat with it. Daphne didn't flinch, nor look down at it, but caught the gleam of metal and realized that's what he'd been swinging around earlier.

Negan seemed impressed by her lack of intimidation, and stood up to his full height, bringing the weapon up against his chest. She noticed he was wearing a single leather fingerless glove on his right hand, and almost laughed at the impracticality of it. Men did silly things for fashion, too.

"This here's Lucille," he said, running a finger along the bare bulb end of the bat. "My best bitch. She's real fuckin' good at bashing heads." He leaned forward at the waist, bending until his face was level with hers and grinned. "So, what are you good at, sweetheart?" The endearment fell from his mouth in a husky vibrato.

She smiled wryly. "Lots of things."

"That's what every asshole says." Negan playfully narrowed his eyes. "Shit, maybe you want to be a wife," he speculated, hunger in his gaze. "Why don't you get back on your fuckin' knees and show me what you're really good at?"

Daphne took in his leer and realized that this was her moment to make an impression.

So she punched him.

There was a collective gasp as his head snapped to the side, but not a move was made as he turned his perfect face back to her, eyes maniacal with glee.

He smirked, shifting his weight into a relaxed lean. "I am about fifty percent more into you now." He flexed his jaw. "Well, we can add punching to your ever-fucking-growing list of skills. What are you after then, seamstress? You want to be a Savior? Go out on supply runs and frolic in the fields with one of my lieutenants?"

Daphne put her punching hand delicately on one hip. "No, I don't want to work for them. I want to work for you."

"Everyone fucking works for me." Negan spread his arms, casting the end of the decorated bat over his congregation. "But you're saying you want to skip the line and join the upper ranks, aren't you, strawberry?"

She nodded, and didn't miss the bewildered glance Arat was giving her in her periphery.

He shrugged. "That's just a damned shame," he said, but didn't seem too broken up about it. "I don't have any fuckin' openings for another lieutenant."

"You will," Daphne promised, and turned to Dwight. His face was a mask of curiosity, but realization rippled when she continued to speak. "Whatcha got in your pocket there, Scarface?"

Sherry couldn't contain her gasp and Negan's head whipped around to check on her rapidly paling features. He turned back to Dwight with a raised eyebrow.

"What the fuck is this, then?" He no longer sounded amused, a threatening tone thinly veiled in inquisitiveness.

"Nothing," Dwight rasped, and Daphne had to give him points for keeping his voice steady.

"Are you sure?" She sounded sweet as honey, and even clasped her hands innocently behind her back for effect. "I mean, it seems like a stupid place to hide incriminating evidence, but I didn't have you pegged as overly intelligent."

He lashed out with a growl, and as soon as his hand curled around her throat, Arat had her gun an inch away from his head, arm over Daphne's right shoulder.

Dwight glared at his coworker, and reached into his pocket with his free hand, throwing a folded piece of paper at Negan's feet, without relinquishing his hold.

The bat wielding boss snapped his fingers twice, and Fat Joey scampered forward to pick up the offending parchment.

"It's a map for future supply runs," Dwight said, sounding almost bored. "I don't know what this bitch thinks it is, but I don't appreciate being accused."

"This bitch is wondering why one of Negan's princesses is mapping out future supply runs," Daphne said, and turned her head slightly to see four women in black stepping away from a quivering Sherry.

"Sher-bear?" Negan waved the paper as he motioned her forward.

"Negan, baby." Her voice shook slightly as she tentatively walked towards him, stilettos doing her no favours. "I don't know what that map is, but this girl is just trying to set us up for her own personal gain."

"It does fuckin' look that way, doesn't it?" He looked almost impressed as he surveyed the blonde caught in an odd tableau between two of his top soldiers. "Mass fucking mayhem in a span of six seconds. Shit, I've got chills!"

Sherry reached him and he slid the map arm around her shoulders, holding it up for her to see. He pointed at it swiftly with Lucille and she flinched.

"Doesn't look like she has any pockets," Daphne spoke up, and Dwight's fingers tightened on her neck. She knew he wouldn't actually constrict her airways with a gun in his face, and it would only implicate him more to do so. "But somewhere hidden away she's got a fake letter to plant before she runs the route on that map."

"She's lying!" Sherry cried, fisting Negan's shirt in her hands, frantic eyes welling up with tears. "Baby you know I'd never do that to you!"

"Well, you know, I thought you learned your fuckin' lesson last time, doll." His voice was sugar laced with warning. "I thought for damn sure that Dwight learned it." He motioned to his own face with the business end of his bat, and shock slapped Daphne like cold water as she realized Scarface got that way from crossing Negan.

"You've done this before?" She couldn't contain her laugh. "You really are stupid."

Dwight growled and clenched his hand.

"Easy, D." Arat pushed closer, gun grazing his forehead.

Daphne smirked as he loosened his grip, a thrill running up her spine at the power she held.

aula stepped forward. "What are we supposed to do now, comb the place for the letter?" P

"There isn't any letter!" Sherry shrieked, and Negan winced.

"Christ Sher, no need to make me go fuckin' deaf," he scolded, rubbing a finger in his ear. "We're in a bit of a pickle here for sure," he admitted. "I can't dismiss these batshit claims, especially considering you two fucks have boned me before. Would be handy dandy to have that letter, but I don't want any of you out of my sight in these untrustworthy times."

"If only we had proof!" Daphne snapped her fingers in mock surrender. When Negan's amused amber eyes fell on her, she knew in that moment that she'd nailed this interview. "Arat?" The blonde asked innocently, and heard the woman behind her sigh.

"You sly bitch." Arat dug the phone out of her pocket with her free hand. She passed it to Simon, who walked it to his boss. Negan nudged Sherry, trading her for the little electronic from the old world.

She looked absolutely terrified next to Simon, clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides.

"Ah, I used to have one of these fuckin' iPhones back in the day," Negan said as he clicked the button to bring up the home screen. "Remember Candy Crush? Shit, I loved me some Candy Crush."

Daphne kept her eyes on Dwight, but he was staring at Sherry desperately. Arat laid a hand discreetly on Daphne's waist, almost as if she were warning to be ready for shit to hit the fan.

"When are you leaving?" Dwight's voice came out of the phone speakers, and Sherry screamed, lunging for the device.

Simon caught her arms and shoved her down on her knees, grasping her hair to hold her there.

"-of the week," video Sherry was saying, "Negan's got all those interviews, so I'll be able to slip out-"

Dwight roared, reaching for his gun, and Arat made her move, snaking an arm around Daphne's waist to jerk her out of his grasp. His fingernails drew blood from the recruit's throat, and Arat shot his gun hand at the same time that Paula fired into the back of his thigh.

Sherry's wail was deafening, and she tore from Simon's grasp, leaving behind a handful of dark hair as she scrambled to Dwight. Arat kicked his gun away and the surrounding Lieutenants backed away from the duo, weapons at the ready.

Daphne stayed next to Arat, marveling at the darkness in the woman's eyes. She was in full on warrior mode, and it was terrifyingly beautiful.

"You know what's really fucking irritating?" Negan paused the video, strolling back and forth, casually swinging Lucille as he went. "When I'm trying to watch a movie and people KEEP...FUCKING...INTERRUPTING!" He emphasized the last words by stomping towards the couple on the floor.

Negan held the phone in front of Sherry's tearful eyes. "Is that you, doll face?" His voice sounded gentle and kind, but she burst into a fresh set of tears. "You gonna let me watch the rest of this? Or do I need to fucking silence you?"

She clutched Dwight's arm, eyes closed as she wept. Scarface seethed in pain, crimson hand over bleeding leg, eyes darting around at the people who had been loyal to him not moments ago.

"-plant the letter in Carson's office, and you find it to implicate him. Then meet me at our old house when Negan sends you after me." Sherry's recorded voice was confident, a far cry from the desperate woman before them now.

"When we're out of here..." At the sound of his own voice on the video, Dwight closed his eyes and the fear finally showed on his face. "I never want to hear his name come out of your mouth again."

The silence was so crisp it could be pricked with a knife. Negan's eyes were glued to the screen, and only Daphne knew that the digital couple were locked in a heated kiss. At the sound of Sherry's moan of pleasure, her scorned husband slammed the phone on the floor and smashed the barbed bat into the screen.

"What the ever living FUCK?!" he bellowed, and Sherry practically climbed Dwight in fear. Negan turned away from them, Lucille dangling in one hand and the other running over his perfect hair.

"Did it ever occur to you," he began in a calmer tone, and spun back around on his heel, "to just fucking ask? Hey baby, this isn't working for us, we made a mistake, we can't live without each other, blah blah fuckity blah." He raised his free hand into a chatting motion.

Sherry opened her mouth to protest, and he put a hand up to stop her.

"Rhetorical question, doll," he snapped, and her jaw clicked shut. "And I know what you were gonna fuckin' say. That I wouldn't have let you go. And maybe you're right, maybe I would have reacted fuckin' badly. But it would only have been as bad as me being butthurt that one of my ladies didn't want to be my lady no more. To go back to her shithead boyfriend with the melted fucking face that I thought wanted to be here, working for me.

"But I'll tell you one thing, you backstabbing pieces of shit. My bad fucking reaction to you sharing your feelings would have been a fuck of a lot more palatable than this bullshit. Running away, and framing the good doctor? I would have killed him for defiling my wife and conspiring with her against me.

"And that's only the first death on your fuckin' hands. Hell, being without a doc, imagine what could have happened. Me and Lucille can lay down the law and keep the Sanctuary safe but we can't heal the wounded or sick. So how many more deaths would you have caused, huh?

"But you didn't care, as long as you got away to the promised land of rainbows and kittens and kumba-fucking-ya." Negan finally paused, hefting Lucille over his shoulder. He looked darkly down at the shivering pair, faces pale at their sins being exposed. "You didn't just betray me. You betrayed the whole fuckin' lot of us."

He sounded disgusted, and Daphne's heart clenched at the sound. This place was a real community, and she couldn't help but feel a swell of pride that she had helped defend it.

"But I'm not a completely unmerciful god." Negan's tone was suddenly light. "It's clear you want to be together." He leaned forward, and his voice dropped an octave. "So you can fucking die together."

He twirled Lucille in a quick arc and Sherry screamed.

Negan laughed, face brightening instantly. "Don't worry darling, Lucille isn't thirsty for traitorous fuckin' blood." He snapped his fingers and the Lieutenants stepped forward, hands hauling the pair to their feet. Dwight hissed as he put his weight on his good leg, clutching his hand to his chest.

"Put the star crossed lovers in a cell together." Negan grinned. "They can whisper sweet fucking poetry to each other while D bleeds out, and the rest will take care of itself."

"No no no no-" Sherry moaned, collapsing in Simon's arms.

Daphne's blood ran cold. The Big Boss was a creative psychopath when he was crossed.

Negan leaned down in front of Dwight's seething face. "My only fucking regret is that I don't have a video of all the times I was inside my wife," he sneered, "so that you could hear my name coming out of her talented mouth again and a-fuckin-gain."

Scarface thrashed uselessly against Fat Joey's hold, and Negan let out a deep belly laugh, twirling his Lucille once again. He motioned towards the door, stepping aside like a gentleman, and the group of lieutenants escorted a sullen Dwight and his shrieking lover away.

Daphne was left by herself, standing alone in her pajamas before a vengeful King. She felt oddly at peace, all her cards on the table, laid naked at his mercy.

"Well it has been a batshit crazy day!" he bellowed. "And it's not even fuckin' breakfast yet!"

Negan stepped in front of the blue eyed blonde with all the swagger she had imagined and more. He took her in with a calculating gaze, this woman who'd turned the whole Sanctuary upside down.

"I don't believe we've been properly acquainted," he said in his low husk. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

Daphne's lips curled into a smirk. "Negan."


	14. XIV - Lieutenants Assemble

"You are one crazy whore," Paula blurted as Daphne rifled through her drawer for a pair of black skinny jeans.

The blonde barked a laugh. "Thanks, bitch," she replied good naturedly, still riding the adrenaline high from her induction into the Saviors.

"How long have you known about Dwight?" Arat crossed her arms and leaned against the bunk. The three girls were alone in the recruit barracks, having escorted Daphne to get dressed for her lieutenant initiation.

"A while," she admitted vaguely, sliding into her jeans. She pulled on her knee high combat boots and set to lacing them up tight. She didn't know what this initiation was going to entail, but she figured dressing for agility and function was the way to go.

Arat didn't look impressed. "And you've been sitting on it all this time?"

"I needed proof," Daphne said, and stripped off her grey tank, letting her ample breasts fall free.

Paula blushed slightly and averted her gaze, but the cinnamon skinned warrior didn't bat an eye. She still had her work face on, that stoic mask that would strike fear into the hearts of Negan's enemies.

Luckily for Daphne, she wasn't Negan's enemy.

"A fresh recruit making claims about the First Lieutenant and First Lady?" She raised an eyebrow as she shrugged into a sports bra. "And to whom? It's not like I could just make an appointment with the Big Boss. Then, two days before my interview I get my proof. And before I can decide how to go forward, the Big Boss has me dragged out of bed by my hair at the ass crack of dawn. So yeah, I sat on it." She rolled a skintight burgundy tank top over her torso and turned to Arat. "Do you distrust me now? Because the statement I wanted to make was that I'm loyal to the cause. Which I assumed both of you are as well."

"'Rat is just salty because she didn't figure it out first," Paula teased with a wry smile, and her coworker punched her in the arm.

"It just seemed a little... theatrical." Arat pursed her lips.

"Theatrical?" Daphne snorted. "Have you met Negan?"

When Daphne entered the front courtyard, she was greeted by the man himself, lieutenants fanned out around him in a semicircle on either side. He faced her with a relaxed lean, Lucille on his shoulder, lopsided grin on his ridiculously attractive face. No wonder the guy had five wives.

"Interview, induction and initiation all before lunch!" Negan bellowed. "You are breaking fuckin' records, doll."

Daphne smirked at him, providing the perfect chance for Colin to snap a photo from the sidelines. History in the making and all that.

"No hidden weapons on that tight fuckin' body of yours?" Negan's eyes raked over her form and she fought a blush, feeling naked.

"I considered it," she said wryly. "I weighed whether you would be more impressed by resourcefulness or my ability to follow orders, and decided on the second thing."

"Shit, you are intuitive, doll." He laughed. "Turn around."

Daphne complied, and gooseflesh rippled down her arms at the feel of his hands grasping hers. Negan's calloused fingers were surprisingly gentle as he wrapped a length of soft rope around her wrists.

His hot breath grazed her ear as he stroked her bound hands. "This one's from my private collection." His low husk made her clench and unclench her fingers, and he chuckled.

Arat and Paula shared a glance and Daphne scowled at them, cursing her hormones. She turned around, as steadily as she could, and looked up into Negan's amused amber eyes.

Her lips curled into a grin. "Is my initiation a gangbang?"

"That would be one hell of an initiation!" He waved Simon forward and the moustached man gave her a shove towards a waiting jeep. He opened the back door and before she could even attempt to climb in unbalanced, Simon grasped her waist and lifted her into the seat.

"You're stronger than you look, stick man," Daphne joked as she settled into a bit of a forward lean.

Simon rolled his eyes. "You're heavier than you look, fatass." He climbed up beside her, and she tried to bump him back out with her shoulder to no avail. Paula slid into the seat on the other side, laughing, and Arat took shotgun.

Negan started the jeep and Crazy Train blasted out of the speakers. He threw a wild grin back at Daphne as he slammed into gear, and they sped off into the morning sun.

The half an hour in the jeep almost felt like a pre-apocalypse joyride with friends, save for the fact that Daphne's hands were bound and the smattering of walkers that drifted about. The loud music made them turn around and amble after the vehicle, and she had a feeling that was on purpose.

They drove into a field, and parked about 500 feet away from a thick forest. Simon was fairly gentle lifting Daphne from her seat, and she turned to face a smiling Negan.

"You excited?" he drawled, spreading his hands.

She raised an eyebrow, noticing a length of black cloth in his hand. "Aren't you supposed to ask me if I'm scared?"

"Nah, you showed me those beach ball sized lady nuts of yours this morning." Negan stepped close to her, speaking as he circled her. "Now we get to see how you fuckin' perform."

Daphne took a deep breath as he covered her eyes with the cloth, tying it around the back of her head.

"You have a weird idea of foreplay," she said, and he barked a laugh.

"Just wait until the main fuckin' event, doll," he said huskily. "I guarantee you're gonna love it." He slid his hands down from the knot to her shoulders, firmly massaging the back of her neck with his thumbs.

She couldn't help but notice how skilled his hands were.

"But for now," he said, letting go of her, "you gotta pass initiation." He circled around to the front again, and she heard shuffling.

She assumed the others were near too, though farther away, and in the distance she could hear groans. Walkers. These guys were hardcore.

"You will stand here and not move a fucking muscle until you hear the signal," Negan instructed, "and then you'll find the jeep, and find each of us shitting damsels, and bring us all safely home."

"Oh, is that all?" Daphne asked sarcastically, a little shell shocked.

"Well you also have to not fucking die." She could almost hear the smirk on Negan's face, and she wanted to punch him again.

"What's the signal?" she asked, instead.

He laughed, and she heard him get back in the jeep. "Would take the fuckin' fun out of it if I told you!"

"See you on the other side." Paula patted the blonde's shoulder, and she heard all of the other doors slam shut a moment later. They sped off, cutting the music.

Daphne let out a ragged breath and strained her ears, hearing the snarls of the walkers in the distance. Heart pounding, she stood stock still, waiting and listening.

CRACK!


	15. XV - Initiation

Fucking flashbang, the crafty bastard.

Daphne immediately ducked and rolled onto her back, stretching her arms as far as they could go to work her wrists over her ass. She could hear snapping jaws now, the walkers getting closer, and she grunted as she managed to get her hands up her thighs.

She squeezed one boot down through her arms, then the other, immediately ripping off her blindfold. She glanced around wildly, taking in walkers approaching from all directions, drawn by the bomb that had gone off just a few feet away.

Her ears still ringing, she started working at the rope around her wrists, grabbing the knot in her teeth to try to loosen it. As she tugged, she stood and looked at the tree line, assuming that the forest was where her 'damsels' were hiding.

She considered going for the jeep first, but likely Negan had the keys. It seemed like the kind of thing he would do.

The knot finally gave as she moved towards the forest, and she picked up her pace as she loosened the rope. The walkers were thinnest to her ten o clock, and she took off into a run, dodging and ducking the slow moving corpses.

She wrapped the rope around one fist and held the end taut, clotheslining a walker in her way. She slapped the cord around another walker's neck and pulled tight, the now gooey rope cutting through its throat like butter.

She darted past the last few in her way, sprinting full speed towards the trees. Once under cover, she moved north, keeping the field line to her left. She wanted to sweep the forest as efficiently as possible, before it was overrun with walkers. Hopefully they'd stick around where the flashbang went off.

CRACK!

Fuck. The noise had come from her right, which meant they were drawing the walkers in as well. This initiation was insanity.

Daphne couldn't help but grin as she took off towards the noise, winding through the trees as silently as she could. There was a staccato of gunfire very close and she instinctively flattened herself against a large tree trunk.

Were they going to shoot at her too? She peeked out, scanning the trees, and caught a flash of bleached hair from above. Clever Arat, up on a high branch. Daphne ducked and trotted towards the tree, and had to dive for cover as a bullet narrowly missed her head.

"Jesus, you guys go all out," Daphne muttered.

"Stay the fuck down!" Arat barked, her tone hard.

The blonde stayed behind the tree, and frowned. "I thought I was just supposed to-"

"This isn't part of the initiation." Arat leapt down from her branch and rolled behind an adjacent tree with catlike grace. "We're under attack." She aimed her automatic rifle and shot twice, face a mask of concentration.

"We need to find the others." Daphne's heart pounded, blood running cold. "Give me a gun," she demanded, and the cinnamon skinned warrior tossed her the handgun from her thigh holster.

She caught it and cocked it, peeking out from around the tree.

"I was at the edge of the formation," Arat said while scanning the trees. "Next Simon, then Paula, then Negan on the far end. I think they came from the east so they might not have reached the others yet." She waved two fingers as she darted into the trees, and Daphne fell in behind her, eyes everywhere.

They reached a body, one of Arat's bullets lodged in its forehead. It was a greasy looking man, dressed in tattered leather with matted dirt caked hair. He looked like he could have been a caveman if it weren't for the Nikes on his feet.

"Look familiar?" Daphne asked, thinking maybe it was a settlement with a grudge.

"No," Arat replied, and kept moving.

The blonde raised her gun and popped one off into a figure to their left, getting them in the back of the neck.

They slowed at the sound of a shrill male voice, ducking low. "Drop it, cunt!"

"Just let him go, he needs medical attention." Paula's voice.

Daphne had to restrain herself not to burst forward, knowing that their stealth was an advantage.

"How's about you come over here and we'll leave him?" a male slurred. "We only got use for bitches anyhow."

There was laughing, and Daphne counted at least five separate voices, but it was hard to tell.

"Okay, I'm tossing my gun," Paula said, cool as a cucumber, and there was a light thump. "Push him away and I'll come forward."

There was a grunt and a thud, and then rustling that sounded like scuffling feet.

The girls peered over a low rise covered in bushes, able to glimpse the scene through the thick foliage. There were nine men total, plus a lump that was Simon and a terse looking Paula.

Zzzzzzzzzt! One of the crusty men zip tied Paula's hands behind her, and another fastened a dog collar around her neck. He gave an experimental tug on the leash and she staggered forward, almost tripping over him.

"Maybe we string her up right here. Fuck I love redheads," one of them declared, reaching out to grab a handful of her ample breast.

She kicked out and her handler jerked on the leash, causing her to fall to her side. There was an audible pop and Daphne cringed, assuming the woman's shoulder had come out of its socket.

Simon growled from his seat on the forest floor, clutching his thigh that sopped with blood. Paula gagged as her captor hauled her up by the leash.

"Nah, Tio got dibs on redheads." He poked her shoulder and she seethed. "No screwing around, bitch. You don't got to be in one piece for us to fuck you." He leered.

Daphne clenched her jaw so hard she thought it might break. Arat put a hand on her arm, and made motions with her hands. Daphne nodded, understanding what she was proposing.

"We hook up with the others, they treed a bitch on the north side," the bulkiest man said, and the group turned away from Simon. The mustached man started to pull a knife from his boot.

"Hey assholes!" he cried, and as they paused, the girls opened fire. They managed to fell five men before the group figured out what was going on, and Paula reared back, head crunching the nose of the man behind her.

Simon's knife flew at another, embedding itself in the dirty captor's throat. The one holding Paula's leash dragged her in front of him, and she kicked back with all her might as he fired wildly into the bushes.

Daphne managed to shoot the asshole with the broken face, and Arat caught the other man attempting to leap for Simon.

"You let me leave with my bitch!" the man hiding behind Paula cried, backing them up with a handgun to her chin.

Daphne and Arat stalked out of the bushes, guns aimed, fire in their eyes.

"About fuckin' time," Simon grunted, and Arat kicked his good leg in response. The girls stood in front of him, shielding him from danger.

"She's our bitch," Daphne growled, "and you're not leaving here at all."

Paula met Arat's gaze. The next moment felt like it happened in slow motion, as the redhead snapped her head forward at an impossible angle and Arat's gun snapped a single shot, catching the beast right in the nose.

Paula cried out as his gun fired right next to her ear, grazing the back of her head. She turned and smashed her boot against the side of the corpse's face, grunting angrily.

Daphne rushed to retrieve Simon's knife, and Arat turned to tend to the man himself.

"How did you let yourself get shot, you useless idiot?" she scolded, but her tone was gentle as she cinched her belt around his upper thigh.

Daphne cut Paula's bonds as gently as she could to avoid jostling her arm. The redhead kicked the corpse again as Daphne checked the back of her head. It was bleeding, but wasn't too deep.

"We need to find out where these assholes came from." Paula grunted.

"Later," Daphne said, and uncoiled the rope from her hand to sling it over her shoulders. "Right now we need to find Negan and get you and Simon to a doctor."

"You're going to pop my shoulder back in and go do that," the redhead countered, "then I'm going to find out where these assholes came from."

"I'm not a fucking field medic," Daphne snapped, and they all froze at the sound of gunfire.

Arat stood and crossed to Paula, grasping arm and shoulder in her strong hands. The redhead hissed at the crack of her bones syncing back together.

"You guys know where the jeep is." Daphne said, and checked the magazine of her gun. "Take Simon there, and circle back to the tree line closest to Negan's position. We'll meet you there."

Paula glared daggers, but flinched as she tried to lift her arm.

"We need to regroup," Arat agreed, and turned to the blonde. "We'll circle around and if you're not there I'm coming in for you." Daphne nodded and turned to head in the direction of the gunfire.

"Get a hostage!" Paula barked, and the new Lieutenant threw a smile back over her shoulder.

"I'll leash one of those cunts just for you."


	16. XVI - Bootfcked

Daphne ran through the forest as quickly as she could without making too much noise, speeding up at the sound of shouting and more gunfire. She crept behind a thick tree as she spotted a man wearing furs taking cover in some bushes.

"Come on out, fucknuts!" Negan bellowed, and Daphne stifled a giggle. She found his dirty mouth terribly entertaining.

She took aim and shot the creeper in the thigh and he screamed, swinging his gun around. She ducked behind the tree as a barrage of bullets flew past her.

She dove out to fire again but his gun was jammed, so she stalked towards him.

"Over here," she called, and kicked the weapon out of the enemy's hand.

Negan appeared to her left, swinging a bloody Lucille back and forth like a child with a toy. He was spattered with red, eyes alight with the glee of the fight.

"Ah, I see you've met my new lieutenant." The leather clad man grinned. "You cock knockers interrupted her fuckin' initiation."

"That's okay, I think killing all of his buddies was a pretty solid initiation," Daphne smirked at the bleeding man on the ground, and fear flashed through his eyes. She pulled the rope from around her neck and tied it into a noose. "I owe you a rope," she said to Negan as she slung the bloody fabric around their captive's neck.

"I'm looking forward to it," Negan replied.

"J-just kill me," the leashed man begged, wincing at the pain in his leg.

"Oh, no." Daphne leaned down to look him in the eye. "See, your nasty cavemen buddies tried to take my lady friend with the intent to rape her. You're going to come meet her, and apologize on behalf of your dickless comrades. Then you're going to tell us everything about where you come from, or you'll really be begging for death."

She jerked on the rope and he staggered forward with a sob. She turned to motion for Negan to follow her, and saw his eyes hard, fist clenched around a very still Lucille.

"I'm going to take my fucking time killing you," he promised, complete malice in his eyes.

Daphne was impressed by his reaction to her words, her heart swelling a little at his protectiveness of his team.

"The others are waiting in the jeep," she prompted, dragging their charge behind them. She stopped short when she entered a clearing that looked like a massacre had taken place. Five dirty corpses clad in fur, none of which had any semblance of a head.

She envisioned a thrilled Negan, maniacal grin on his face, smashing Lucille about like whack a mole. She turned to him, raising an amused eyebrow, and he returned her a sheepish glance.

"Idiots didn't know who they were fuckin' ambushing," he drawled, and she shook her head at his ego, stepping over the first body. "What, did you think I was just a pretty face?" He grinned and she rolled her eyes.

They met Arat at the tree line, jeep running. Simon gave a little salute with a bloody hand, holding a compress to his wound with the other.

"They fuckin' shot Simon too?" Negan kicked their captive in the back of the thigh so that he fell to his knees. "This was supposed to be." Kick to the stomach. "A relaxing!" Kick. "Fucking!" Kick. "Morning!" He booted the fur clad guy in the face, splattering blood along the grass.

Paula and Arat joined Daphne and their leader in a circle around the sobbing beaten man. Arat knelt, with a map in her hands.

"Where do you live?" Her voice was hard. He shook his head and Paula snatched his hand, bending his pinky backward until it snapped in two.

His agonized scream caused crimson drool to dribble down his chin.

"Where do you live?" Arat asked again, tone level.

Paula grabbed his hair and forced him to look at the paper. He reached up, shaking, with his good hand and pointed at a spot about fifteen miles out.

"Liar," Paula grunted, and broke his ring finger with a creak and pop. "There's nothing over there, we've a trade route through that area."

"It's our camp!" the man cried, trying to yank his hand out of her grasp to no avail. "We have t-trailers... we t-travel..."

"How long will they stay there?" the redhead demanded.

"A f-few days more, to re..." he trailed off with a hiss as she bent his middle finger in warning.

"To what?" she barked.

"Replenish our s-stock," he cried, and then screeched as she busted that finger as well.

"I'd be willing to bet stock as in women, huh?" She sneered darkly. "Because 'you only got use for bitches', right?" At his sobbing nod she slammed his arm down over her knee, fracturing his wrist, ignoring the pain in her tender shoulder.

Arat kicked him in the face and he fell towards Daphne, who yanked him up by the hair.

"I told you that you were going to apologize on behalf of your dickless comrades," she said sternly.

He just continued to cry, blood running from his nose.

Negan brought Lucille down on the captive's good leg, relishing in the spray of crimson. "Apologize to the fuckin' lady," he demanded.

"I'm sorry!" the broken man screamed, eyes wildly staring at Paula. "I'm so fucking sorry!"

She grinned wildly as her boot connected with his chest. "Apology not accepted."


	17. XVII - Nomads

They spent a good ten minutes continuing the beating, throwing him back and forth like children playing hot potato.

"How you doin over there, Simon?" Arat called as Negan finished their job with a rough kiss from Lucille.

"Peachy," Simon replied with a grin, though he looked pale.

"Now that that fuckin' business is taken care of." Negan hoisted Lucille over his shoulder and leaned over Arat's map. There was a bloody fingerprint where their captive had pointed, and he touched the paper slightly east of it. "Take Paula and Simon to Carson, and radio Gavin on the way. Tell him to saddle the fuck up and meet me at those coordinates. Daphne and I will scout the camp, then meet up with him and we'll come down on those bastards like a nuclear fucking bomb."

Arat opened her mouth to protest and then closed it again. She wasn't one to disobey orders and she knew he was giving her this task because she'd want to see to Simon's recovery. It was a gift, one of the moments of Negan's roundabout empathy that most would miss. She thanked him with her eyes and motioned Paula to the jeep.

"So you send your top Lieutenants home and take the rookie on a killing spree?" Daphne asked in a teasing voice as they stepped back into the forest.

"I like watching you in fuckin' action," Negan replied with a grin, swinging Lucille back and forth as they walked. "I could've sent you back, but considering you sent them all packing for the jeep to come rescue me all by your fuckin' self... shit, I'd say you're in this til the bitter end, doll."

"Well it was in the rules," the blonde replied. "I had to rescue each of you and bring you to the jeep. The other three are on their way home, but that leaves you out here, defenseless and unprotected."

There was a twinkle in his eye. "I admire your dedication, strawberry." He consulted the map and motioned towards a smattering of large rocks to their left. "Silent as fuckin' ninjas from here on out," he said, and led the way.

Daphne wondered how many of the Saviors knew their way through the surrounding areas of the Sanctuary so well. How far they had mapped, how far their trade routes went. It was uncanny how easily Negan seemed to move through the woods, as if he had an internal GPS.

The camp was easy to find, as raucous laughter echoed through the trees. They pinned themselves behind a thick oak trunk with a good view and peeked out.

Shadows fell over each set of eyes at the sight before them.

There were at least fifteen men in furs and matted hair about, but were easily outnumbered by the naked women trussed around them. A few were strung from trees by their necks, balancing precariously on their toes to avoid choking, hands bound behind them. A few were strapped to wooden structures face down, lower halves bent for a very obvious use. Others followed their captors on all fours, leashed like Paula had been.

One man sat above them all, on a large armchair in front of the biggest trailer, overseeing the clearing. A woman knelt beside him, eyes red with tears, bound with a ring gag in her mouth. He petted her head almost affectionately, like a dog.

There was a shriek from the other end of the camp as a man dragged a fully clothed but leashed dark haired woman from the bushes.

"Found this one campin' with her hubby." The handler shoved her before the leader. "He was such a fuckin' gentleman beggin' me to take his wife instead of his food," he laughed, "so I took his wife and his fuckin' food."

The woman fidgeted in fear, eyes darting around at all the distressed prisoners around her. "P-please..."

"You're lucky to be rid of that asshole husband." The leader stood, spreading his arms. "Welcome to our camp. We are the Nomads, Kings of the apocalypse. I am Drak." He was definitely the most eloquent of the bunch, but Daphne couldn't help innately snorting at the term 'kings'.

Negan was a fucking King. This guy was a monster.

"Please..." the woman tried again, and he laughed at her.

"Don't worry, bitch, you'll have a good life here. Your place is beneath us, and however long you last it will be a fruitful existence, do you understand?" Drak stepped down from the deck and grinned cruelly at her. "How long you last depends on you. You see those women there?" He motioned to the ones strung from branches, one of which was being pulled up higher than her legs could reach the ground.

She gurgled and choked, three men hooting and cheering and slapping her as she rose, kicking in protest. The clothed woman burst into tears, closing her eyes, and Drak grasped the back of her neck to force her to watch.

"Open your eyes, cunt," he demanded, and she shook as she complied, tears streaming down her face. "That woman outlived her usefulness. She was on the verge of being too loose when we grabbed her, and then just laid there like a limp rag while we fucked her. Boring.

"So if you're a good girl, and you keep us interested, you stay alive, see?" He patted her cheek and she cringed. He took a step back. "Why don't you start by taking off your clothes, hm?" He licked his lips, and she shakily reached up to the top button of her shirt, openly sobbing.

Daphne clutched at Negan's arm, unsure if she was holding him back or trying to hold herself back. She knew they couldn't run in there blind and take out fifteen armed men by themselves, hence the backup they were supposed to meet with.

But this was horrible to watch. The dying hanged woman, this new girl stripping out of clothes that her new captors threw on the fire as she discarded the pieces.

Daphne knew they should retreat, find Gavin, and hurry back. But horror rooted her to the spot as Drak pushed the naked and shaking girl to her knees.

"Don't worry baby, you can be a good girl and not have to like it," he purred. "In fact, I'll enjoy it more if you don't."


	18. XVIII - Ice

"Gavin Daphne, Daphne Gavin." Negan pointed Lucille between his companion and his Lieutenant, and the latter eyed the bat.

"Busy day there, boss?" Gavin asked, noting the blood covered barbed wire.

"Oh, we're just getting fuckin' started." Negan grinned, leaning back and spreading his arms. "Bunch of dickless rapists have a harem of slave girls in the woods. Not only are they encroaching on my territory—which is just not fucking cool—they're kidnapping, torturing and killing local ladies. Which is fucking unacceptable."

"Jesus." Gavin looked horror struck and Daphne took in the lines on the man's face. He looked like he'd been around the block a few times, perhaps even before the apocalypse. His face hardened with determination, and she saw pure Lieutenant there, a man with a mission.

She looked over the rest of his crew of eight men and five women, all of them armed to the tits. A long haired surfer looking guy leered when her gaze fell on him, and she fought the urge to smash him in the face.

"We stealth in and bootfuck all of those assholes," Negan said, his commanding presence drawing all attention. "I want as many alive as possible. I want their deaths to be slow as fucking molasses. Hurt them, disarm them, and herd them like sheared fuckin' sheep."

He turned to lead the way, and Daphne fell into step beside Gavin, who unsheathed an impressively large shotgun as they started to walk.

"I don't know if I've seen you before," he said in a conversational tone, as if they weren't clomping off to murder a bunch of people. "Where were you promoted from?"

"Just finished my probation." She smiled.

His eyebrows rose into his hairline. "You must have come in with a bang," he said, and she nodded.

She caught surfer dude staring in her periphery and narrowed her eyes.

"I could make you come with a bang," he licked his lips and she wanted to gag.

"Shut the fuck up, Jared," Gavin snapped, and surfer dude scowled, but didn't say anything more.

Negan put a hand up to signal silence and the group spread out into a quiet little fan, moving through the trees like a wolf pack hunting prey.

Negan and Daphne curled behind the same tree as the previous time. He grasped Lucille tightly and raised his hand, lowering each finger in succession. When he clenched his fist, the Saviors leapt into the clearing, bullets flying immediately.

The Nomads had no time to react, and several hit the dirt, clutching kneecaps. Time seemed to slow as screams echoed in the air, and Daphne lunged forward to kick a gun from a fallen Nomad's hand.

She swung and fired again, her bullet finding its mark in a fur covered hip. Lucille swung into the back of the surprised man's calves, and Negan caught the victim's wrist on the way down, relieving him of his weapon.

Drak dove for the nearest trailer's door, having kicked his new woman off of the deck. Gavin beat him to it and smashed his face with the butt of the shotgun, sending him staggering back. Negan caught hold of his hair and jerked him down, pressing a black boot to his throat.

He sneered down at the fallen self proclaimed king. "Well hello there, sweet cheeks."

The Saviors were already rounding up wounded men, some of them bursting into the three trailers to scout any stragglers. Daphne ducked into the middle one, gun raised, but the only inhabitant was a blindfolded woman bound to the bed. Her arms and legs were covered in purple bruises.

"Please..." she whimpered. "Please help us..." Daphne's blood boiled, and she poked her head back out the door.

"Are we clear?" she asked.

"Oh yeah," Gavin replied as he shoved the last Nomad into the center of the clearing. Daphne turned to the Savior she'd followed in, a lean man with short honey brown hair.

"Untie her," she instructed, "and be gentle about it." She stepped back outside to see a few of the female Saviors were freeing women from the trees.

"You and your cockless puppies ruined my fuckin' day," Negan was saying to a red faced Drak, still trapped under the leather clad man's boot. "But I like to look on the bright side of the horse's ass. I'm glad you dickholes wandered into my territory. Hell, I'm positively gleeful! Do you know why?"

Drak clawed at his captor's calf, struggling to breathe. Negan eased up his foot a bit, not wanting to kill him just yet.

"If you hadn't have made the incredibly stupid decision to come here, you'd still be out there, a'pillagin' and rapin' like a bunch of fuckin' pirates." He leaned down on his knee casually, like a teacher in an after school special. "Would have liked it better if your fuckpuppies hadn't put their greasy paws all over my Lieutenant. But shit, they did, and I guess it's just more fuel for the fuckin' fire."

He ran Lucille down Drak's cheek, leaving scratches in her wake. He cringed, but didn't look nearly scared enough. Daphne didn't think his men looked scared enough either. She met Negan's gaze and could see he agreed.

"This here's Lucille," he purred. "She is vastly fuckin' offended by sexual violence, and you really, really don't want to go offending her." He stepped off of Drak and both Daphne and Gavin moved forward to haul him to his knees.

"Fuck you," Drak wheezed, gasping for air, and Gavin shattered his cheekbone with his trusty shotgun.

"No fuckin' thank you, I don't swing that way." Negan smirked as he swooped Lucille in a wide arc. "Lucille's interested in your needle dick, though." He scooped up a log from beside the fire and stood it up in front of the kneeling man.

Drak's face went completely pale as it sunk in what was going to happen, and a few of the kneeling Nomads moaned in horror.

"Why don't you start by pulling it out, hm?" Negan leaned down, a sly smile playing his lips, eyes icy calm. "It's okay to obey me and not like it. In fact, I'll enjoy it more if you don't."


	19. XIX - Justice

Daphne wasn't expecting to enjoy Drak's blood-curdling screech of pain upon Lucille's rough love with his flaccid cock. But she did, very much, enjoy it. The squelch of the bat coming down on his rape meat and tearing it to smithereens made her positively euphoric. Negan yelled in maniacal glee as he brought her down a fourth and final time, more for show than there really being anything left to smash.

Drak went limp, passing out, and Gavin and Daphne let his body crumple in the dirt. Negan turned to the Nomads kneeling before him, frozen in place with the proper amount of horror etched on their dirty faces.

He lifted Lucille, and flung it forward, a stray hunk of skin slapping one of their captives in the face. The guy moaned and flinched back, but was too afraid to move position.

"And that is what Lucille thinks of fuckin' rapists," Negan bellowed, spreading his arms for effect. "If you don't want her to castrate your little pricks too, you'll let my crew herd you all into one of those fuckin' trailers so we can take you home with us. If you're well behaved, you might even get a quick execution."

Daphne was sure Paula, Simon and Arat would disagree with that, but assumed that's why he added the 'might'. Nevertheless, the Nomads were docile as kittens as they were herded into an empty trailer. They watched through the windows as Negan and Gavin hung Drak in one of the nooses that had held his former prey, and left him to drip blood and eventually turn.

"It's okay, we have a great doctor, we'll get you fixed up." A female Savior wrapped a blanket around one of the women, walking her towards the third camper. It was drivable instead of needing to be pulled by a truck, and Daphne would be taking that one with all of the liberated women in it.

She heard muffled crying and turned, seeing a long haired Savior rocking a still bound and gagged woman on the ground.

"Shhhh, it's okay, we've got you now, shhh," he cooed, and Daphne recognized the surfer dude's voice. She stepped closer, and the woman looked terrified, whimpering and trying to squirm out of his arms.

She grabbed a fistful of his hair and wrenched him backwards. "Jesus Christ, let go of her, you idiot!"

"What the fuck?!" Jared fell onto his ass and gaped at her in shock.

"She's a rape victim, you fucking moron, she doesn't want you all over her," Daphne snapped as she untied the woman's hands and gently slid the gag from her mouth. "So sorry hon, I swear we're not all animals. Let's get you inside." She slipped an arm around the woman's back to help her to her feet.

There was a sharp click and Daphne raised her eyes into the barrel of Jared's gun.

"You don't fucking talk to me like that," he snarled, and she couldn't help but laugh at him. He wavered at that, confusion marring his features.

"This morning I took out Negan's top Lieutenant and his top wife," she informed him with an amused expression. "By all means, point that gun at me. See where it fucking gets you." She continued leading the crying woman to the trailer, completely unfazed.

His hand shook and he dropped his arm, scowling. Negan smirked at Daphne as she entered the trailer and she returned it before disappearing inside.

"Everyone snug as a bug in their fuckin' rugs?" the leather clad leader bellowed, and Gavin saluted him from their group at the far end. Negan jumped into the truck hooked up to the trailer housing their new captives. He banged on the door as he revved the engine, and the convoy was off.

Arat met them at Gavin's original rendezvous point in the jeep, two more cars packed with Saviors in tow.

She pouted up at Daphne, who hung out the driver's side window to greet her. "Aw, missed all the action."

"Oh don't worry, Negan has a full load of prisoners for you guys to have a go at," the blonde assured her. "How are the others?"

"Carson is fixing up Simon just fine, and Paula is more annoyed than anything." Arat laughed. "Donnie's doting on her like she's a paraplegic. She begged me to take her back with me, but when Primo showed up with the kids I ran away from the dogpile."

Daphne grinned. "I'm imagining a doting Donnie and it is glorious," she said, and Gavin strode up as Negan directed the rest of the Saviors up front.

"Hey, Arat," he greeted, and she clapped him on the back.

"Still in one piece, old man?" she teased.

"Running low on Krazy Glue to hold me together," he retorted, and then his expression changed back to business. "I'm going to take my guys back to the outpost since you're here." He nodded to Arat. "We'll take the empty trailer with us and your crew can escort the goods home."

"Sounds good," she replied, and patted the side of the trailer.

"You girls done your fuckin' hen party?" Negan called from the truck, banging on the door again.

"Cluck cluck!" Daphne cried, and revved the engine.

The crowd awaiting them back at the Sanctuary was immense. Word had gotten around about the Nomads, and everyone wanted a glimpse of the action.

A man in a white coat stood at the forefront with a hard expression on his face. Daphne studied him as she exited the vehicle, hoping he had a better bedside manner than this.

Negan strutted around his truck, swinging Lucille and banging his hand on the side of the trailer. The crowd started towards him, Saviors with guns creating a semicircle around the trailer door.

"Ready for some fresh fuckin' meat?" Negan grinned as he opened the door. "Come on out, fuckwads!" He banged on the metal siding again. "Don't make me come in there you get you!" His voice was a menacing singsong, and a Nomad appeared at the door, pale faced and wide eyed.

Negan reached out and jerked the guy forward, toppling him to the ground. Fat Joey hauled him up by the back of his shirt and started to lead him away.

"Welcome to the Sanctuary, cunts!" Negan spanked one of the Nomads on his way by, Saviors stepping forward to escort them inside. "We have a zero tolerance policy for rape around here, so be sure you'll get a warm fuckin' welcome!"

"Dr. Carson?" Daphne called, catching the doctor's attention as the crowd pushed closer to Negan. He turned and approached her.

"You're Daphne?" he asked, running a hand through his thinning hair.

"The one and only," she said with a smile, and extended her hand. "I'm sorry I haven't come to introduce myself yet."

"No apologies." He shook her hand firmly. "I suppose I should be thanking you, for stopping Dwight and Sherry from framing me."

"You can thank me by helping these women." She motioned to the trailer behind her. "You don't happen to have some female help? I know beggars can't be choosers, but..." She didn't really know how to finish the sentence, but Carson seemed to understand.

"I can get some help," he replied.

Daphne caught Negan's eye and inclined her head to her vehicle, and he responded with a nod.

"Alright friends, back to work!" He waved an arm as the last of the prisoners were herded inside. "This place ain't gonna run it-fuckin'-self!" He strode over to Daphne as the crowd dispersed, Arat in tow.

Carson returned with four women, quietly briefing them on the situation. They nodded in understanding and a brunette woman who looked about twenty stepped forward, extending her hand.

"I'm Ariadne," she said, and Daphne shook, replying with her own introduction. "May I?" Ariadne motioned to the trailer and the blonde nodded, stepping aside.

"Keep me posted, Carson, yeah?" Arat asked, and the doctor nodded. "Paula's crew is organizing a few rooms upstairs for them."

"Let's fuckin' jet," Negan said, motioning for his lieutenants to follow him. "Time for a pre-game drink."

"Game?" Daphne inquired, long strides keeping up with the duo.

"The final fuckin' part of your initiation, babe." Negan smirked, and opened the door, bowing gentlemanly and motioning her in with Lucille. "After you, Madam."


	20. XX - Ex

Negan led Arat and Daphne upstairs and through winding hallways to his dining room, which also had a minibar. The blonde was flabbergasted at the exuberance of the makeshift penthouse, a condo fit for a king.

"You don't half ass anything, huh?" She ran a finger along the oak hutch by the door.

"Go big or go get eaten by fuckin' walkers," Negan grinned, and set Lucille next to an ornate copper sink. He shed his jacket on a nearby chair and Daphne's breath hitched in her throat. She hadn't yet seen him without the leather and seeing the white t shirt stretch across his broad shoulders and muscular back made heat rise in her belly.

Arat poured a few glasses of whiskey and handed one to Daphne with a knowing smirk. The blonde scowled at her and took a swig, relishing in the burn down her throat.

Negan hooked his deft fingers under the end of Lucille's barbed wire and started to unravel her, what seemed like miles of blood caked metal.

There was a light knock on the doorframe and the three turned to see a slight blonde in a black dress standing there. Her eyes were wide, bottom lip worrying between her teeth.

"Amber, honey," Negan said kindly, though there was a hint of lust beneath the smooth tones. "Couldn't wait to see me?"

"No... yes..." she stammered, and clasped her hands in front of her. "I need to talk to you."

"What is it, sweetheart?" He turned, though he didn't set down the bloody wire, making a menacing conversational partner despite his honey laden words.

"I-" she took a deep breath. "I want to go back to the colony."

Disappointment flickered across Negan's face, then was quickly replaced by suspicion. "Mark?"

"Nothing's happened," Amber said quickly, raising her hands in surrender. "I just... I can't stop being in love with him. I can't. It's killing me to be away from him and... I don't want anything to happen that would-" She cut off, but when her gaze flickered to Daphne, understanding dawned on the trio.

Negan barked a laugh. "Well I'm glad my little piece of strawberry pie has made an example," he said. "You don't want her to catch you breaking the fuckin' rules?"

"I would never- never betray you, Negan," Amber was visibly shaking. "That's why I-" Her voice broke and a tear slipped down her cheek. He set the wire down in the sink and cleaned his hands methodically.

Daphne watched with interest as he slowly dried himself, deliberately taking his time to make Amber sweat. But the act of leaving the wire as he crossed the room to Amber seemed to be a peace offering, and his soon-to-be-ex wife visibly relaxed.

He pulled her into a gentle hug and she burst into tears, burying her face in his chest.

"It's okay, babydoll," Negan cooed, petting the back of her wavy locks. "I'll fuckin' miss you, but I don't force women to be with me, right?"

She nodded and leaned back, looking up at him with big sad eyes.

He ran a finger down her smooth cheek. "You go ahead, pack your shit. I'll talk to Carson in the morning about a job for you."

"Thank you," Amber wiped at her eyes, offered him a wavering smile and then scurried off.

"Shit, I will miss that perfect little ass," Negan sighed, and strutted back over to the sink, snatching up his whiskey glass on the way. "You've cost me two fuckin' wives in one day, strawberry," he said, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice. "Maybe you try on some of that sexy ass lingerie you made, huh?"

Daphne rolled her eyes. "I think it would look better on Arat." She grinned deviously at her coworker.

"You're hilarious." The cinnamon skinned warrior placed her empty glass on the counter with a thud of finality. "I'm going to go check on Simon. Meet you in the basement later." She gave Negan a casual salute and exited.

He turned the water back on and ran Lucille's wire underneath it. Daphne wondered if she should feel badly that she'd been responsible for him losing two wives and a lieutenant. But she couldn't bring herself to. Sherry and Dwight were traitors, and Amber might have been had she not stepped up. Daphne was just doing her part. And her part now was taking care of the Sanctuary.

Her eyes raked down his back again to his ass, shifted slightly to the left and tight as hell. Fuck. Damn Arat, abandoning her to her hormones. An image flitted through her head of Negan naked beneath her, raking her nails down his chest as she lowered herself down onto his hard cock-

Daphne clamped her thighs together and shoved the thought away. This was not the time to mix business with pleasure. She had to solidify her position here, and she wanted to do it with her skills as a lieutenant, not her skills with her pussy.

"When Dwight and Sherry came back from their last romp, having fucked me over and gotten my wife killed, I was going to beat their brains in." Negan broke the silence, placing the shiny clean wire on a drying rack. "Sherry begged for her boyfriend's miserable life, told me she'd take her sister's place as my wife." He moved a flannel cloth delicately down Lucille's shaft, washing away the horrors of the day. "I knew they weren't fuckin' loyal to me, but they obviously were willing to risk dying to be here. So D took the iron, and Sherry took my cock, and all was fuckin' merry and bright.

"Except it wasn't, was it?" he mused, and dried Lucille with a white towel. He carefully patted the barbed wire dry and rewound it, poking the ends into specific little notches to hold her together. He did it with grace and skill and care, as he'd done a thousand times before, and Daphne wondered if anyone else had ever performed this particular ritual on Negan's deadly lady.

He turned, downed the rest of his drink, and set the bat down on the dining table. He crossed to the bar and retrieved the bottle of whiskey, returning to refill both their glasses. Daphne stifled a gasp at his close proximity to her, and almost opened her mouth to break the tension just before he spoke again.

"I probably should have fuckin' killed them then," he admitted, pouring the amber liquid. He set the bottle next to Lucille and leaned on one hand, that confident swagger contradicting his words of doubt. "But I couldn't help myself." He met her eyes and his perfect lips curled into a sly smile. "Putting people in their fuckin' place. Showing them where they belong."

Daphne's lips parted slightly at his low husk, and she resisted the urge to bite her lip. Flashes of him bending her over the table and putting her in her place-

"Makes me all fuckin' warm and fuzzy inside!" Negan declared with a grin, and downed his drink, and the moment was over. She was half relieved and half frustrated as he set down his glass and strutted to the door, reclaiming his jacket on the way. "Go get cleaned up baby, I'll pick you up in an hour for your induction. It's time for your fuckin' party!"


	21. XXI - Induction

Negan strode into the barracks, donning clean jeans and his signature jacket hanging open just wide enough to see the fresh white t shirt beneath. His hair was slicked back from his shower, which had taken longer than usual due to Frankie's expert mouth.

At least he hadn't lost the redhead amongst his wives. She was the best at swallowing his cock, and could make him come in record time. Coupled with her massage talents, she was easily his favourite.

But even Frankie's enthusiastic blowy wasn't enough to satisfy Negan that evening. He'd been craving blonde curls in his fist, blue eyes looking up at him with sly defiance. He was happy with his wives, sure, but they were all so... delicate. He'd long dreamed of a woman he could throw around a bit. A woman who wasn't just doing her duty. A woman with mile long legs and an attitude...

Negan grunted in frustration, knowing he had to get his shit together or he'd have another problem. This sassy new lieutenant was driving him completely batshit, and his only comfort was that he could tell he had the same effect on her. It was a matter of when, not if, but he had to play his hand just right. He wanted to make sure she understood that he had the upper hand around here. The upper hand on her.

He waved his hand at the few recruits littering the barracks. "Scatter," he said, and scatter they did. He leaned against the wall next to the communal bathroom entrance and checked the clock on the far wall. He was five minutes early.

He wondered what she looked like in there, slick from her shower and toweling off. Fuck, what this little pie was doing to him.

"Hurry the fuck up," he called, voice echoing through the doorway. "This isn't prom, sweetheart."

Daphne's heart caught in her throat as she cut the water, clambering for her watch. She scowled at it, having lost track of time.

"Suck my dick, I still have five minutes!" she singsonged back, and heard a chuckle. She toweled off quickly and scurried to her pile of clothes.

She'd lost track of time, of course, because after a twenty minute stint in the gym beating the shit out of a punching bag, she'd made herself come three times in the shower. Violence hadn't distracted her from her need, so she'd figured she just needed to take care of the problem itself.

Unfortunately, an orgasm hadn't had the intended effect either. Daphne knew her body well, just where to touch, rub, pinch, press. She had herself over the edge within a few minutes, without making a peep to alert the recruits hanging outside of her pursuit. But the visions swimming in her mind were only heightened by her heat, and she found herself continuing to touch, imagining Negan's lips on her, his teeth, his rough hands, the smell of leather and whiskey and his utter complete maleness.

She cursed under her breath as she reached the mirror. This swaggering King was driving her batshit. But she was almost certain she was having the same effect on him, so this was just another round they were going to play.

Daphne ran a brush through her thick hair, thankful for the deep conditioner Nicola had procured for her. She briefly imagined Negan in his own shower, hand around his massive cock, thinking of her, and slammed the brush down on the counter in protest.

Five minutes later, he was ready to barge in there, privacy be damned. He wasn't about to wait for the princess to primp herself.

But when Daphne strode into view wearing an impossibly short red plaid kilt and a black corset top that accentuated every curve of her tight body, a lopsided grin spread across his face.

"Shit, I guess you took the prom thing to heart," Negan drawled as his gaze dropped down her toned legs to her combat boots. "You look like a sinful fuckin' schoolgirl!"

She curtsied for him. "I'm ready for my final exam, professor," she said with a smirk, and though he looked confident and unaffected, she wondered how hard his dick was getting in those jeans.

"I bet you fuckin' are." His eyes twinkled with mischief and he motioned for her to follow him.

Cheers erupted as Negan entered the Savior's lounge in the basement, and he let it wash over him with pride

Cheers erupted as Negan entered the Savior's lounge in the basement, and he let it wash over him with pride. Daphne watched his face, a rare moment of pure appreciation for what he'd built without all of the bravado.

Then he raised his arms and the lopsided grin was back. Arat clapped Daphne on the shoulder and held out a sandwich.

"You're going to want to eat that now," she suggested, and the blonde raised an eyebrow but did as she was told. It was lettuce, tomato and cucumber on fresh rye, and she practically inhaled it, not having realized how hungry she was.

"Now, there comes a time in every Savior's life when they need to fuckin' prove themselves," Negan said as the hubbub died down. "One way or the other, you all were tested, and you got to stick around because your ass passed the test.

"My Lieutenants, however, go through a far more grueling process." He started to walk, and the crowd slowly shifted into a circle around him. "Whether they're handpicked by me, or they apply of their own giant fuckin' balls, they first need to prove their loyalty." He held up a finger high as he paced. "Then, they need to prove their skills at surviving, and taking care of their own." Two fingers.

"A lot was fuckin' proven today, good folks of the Sanctuary. And shit, was it a stellar fuckin' show." He held up a third finger and slowed to a stop, turning to face Daphne. He took in the curious excitement in her eyes, and shook his head with a laugh. "You have been mighty impressive doll, mighty fuckin' impressive. You ready for the third and final step?"

She stared him down for a beat, just to draw out the tension in the crowd. She'd caught on quickly to how he liked to work a room. "So very ready." The words dripped from her tongue like napalm and the crowd erupted in cheers again.

The group along the back wall parted, revealing a flame grill with a nice coal bed and a metal handle sticking out of it. Daphne realized what was going to happen and smiled. Negan approached the fire and donned a long black glove.

She spotted Donnie pushing through the crowd on her left and a few people stepped aside to allow Simon entrance in a wheelchair. He gave her a little salute and a smirk, and she returned it.

"You got any tattoos, doll?" Negan asked, and she shook her head. "Ah, I get to pop your fuckin' cherry then," he drawled with a sly grin, and she rolled her eyes, ignoring the flutter in her belly.

"I don't think this is on the same level as a tattoo," she said as he removed the metal handle from the fire, revealing an intricately formed wire that was red hot.

"No, but I get to be the first one to mark that luscious fuckin' skin of yours," Negan said, looking her up and down. "My lieutenants all get a custom brand. This one is all you, baby." He held up the wire end, an elegantly scripted N.

Daphne stifled a laugh. Of course he would brand his lieutenants with his name.

"So where do you fuckin' want it, doll?" He put the wire back in the coals while she decided.

She stepped over to the table next to the fire, and hopped up onto it. She lifted her left leg and slammed her boot down next to her, baring her inner thigh.

His eyes hooded as he took her in, skirt falling just enough to cover the black panties he'd caught a glimpse of in her movement. She leaned back on her hands, her long hair cascading in soft curls behind her to the table. It took everything he had not to shove her down and slam into her in that moment, and he was quite sure the bitch knew it too.

"Give it to me, then," Daphne prompted, inclining her head to the fire. Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure it was visible as he retrieved the handle.

Negan held the wire in his left hand, and snaked his right over her knee. When his calloused palm cupped her joint, she took in a sharp breath, and he squeezed, pushing her leg back further. Her creamy unmarred thigh was so tantalizing and he held up the wire, the N perpendicular to her leg so that it would be readable to anyone in this particular position.

"What's your fucking name, Lieutenant?" he asked, gaze locking on hers.

"Negan," she breathed, and he pressed the hot metal to her skin.


	22. XXII - Mischief

There was a split second of pain, a hiss, then numbness as the nerves melted away. A low moan slipped from Daphne's mouth and Negan's lips curled into a devilish smile as he watched her eyelids flutter.

"Did you like that, strawberry?" he growled as he removed the wire.

She had. The pain and the ritual of it, the sight of his heated gaze as he marked her as his own.

He read it in her face and smirked, turning to replace the metal into the coals to clean it.

Ariadne stepped around him, donning nitrile gloves, and knelt to look at the fresh burn.

"Hell of a place for an open wound," she muttered.

Daphne gasped as the woman spread ointment on it, and then covered it in cling wrap, taping the edges down.

Ariadne pursed her lips. "Walking around is going to suck while this heals."

"No pain, no gain." The blonde grinned, and Negan barked a laugh.

"Welcome, Lieutenant," he bellowed, and cheers thundered and echoed once again.

"Come see me in the morning for aftercare instructions!" Ariadne yelled in Daphne's ear over the roar, and then disappeared into the crowd.

The blonde hopped down from the table, and Paula was first to grab her hand.

"Welcome, officially," she said with a smile. "You definitely earned it."

"Move your ass!" Simon barked from behind the redhead, and she stepped aside with a laugh.

"Watch yourself, wheels," Paula warned, swatting him on the shoulder.

He stuck his hand out to Daphne and she shook it firmly. "Good to have you, kid," he said, and she rolled her eyes.

"I guess anyone under thirty is a kid to you, huh old man?" she replied, and they laughed.

Donnie pulled her into a crushing hug and she awkwardly patted his back while Paula snickered.

"Thank you for saving my girl," he said as he squeezed.

"You're welcome," Daphne croaked, the air squeezed out of her lungs. "You know Arat did just as much as I did," she said, and took in a lungful as Donnie let her go and turned to the woman in question.

"Hug me and I'll break your arm," Arat put up a hand in warning.

He backed away, wrapping his arms around Paula instead. "Primo and Mol send their best, they're spending time with Talia and the kids before we ship out tomorrow."

"Aw, it's too bad we won't be able to make mischief together," Daphne said with a glint in her eye.

"No unsanctioned fuckin' mischief!" Negan interjected, handing a cold beer to her over Paula's shoulder. "I'm glad I'm fuckin' separating you shitheads."

"I'll still have Arat." Daphne side glanced her new coworker with a not-so-inconspicuous wink.

"And we still have tonight." Paula looked positively devious.

"I noticed you said 'unsanctioned'." Daphne clinked her beer against Negan's before taking a swig. "What exactly is 'sanctioned' mischief? Doesn't sound like fun." She pouted, and his eyes twinkled.

Beer quickly turned to shots, and before long Daphne found herself in the fighting ring opposite Paula.

"First to three, right?" the blonde asked, bouncing back and forth on her feet to loosen up her tingly body.

"Zero for you, rookie." The redhead sneered.

Daphne laughed. She felt mildly ridiculous about to fight her friend while wearing a skirt and corset, still riding an adrenaline high from her branding and further fueled by alcohol.

Donnie rang an unnecessarily large bell and Paula immediately lashed forward, catching Daphne in the ribs.

"Jesus, you dislocated your shoulder like today," the blonde grunted and bounced backwards.

"And you still can't keep up with me," Paula taunted, and twirled, kicking her leg to the left.

Daphne leapt over it, reeling back with her hand to connect it with her friend's ass on the way down. Donnie hooted and Paula whipped around with her fist, catching the blonde's shoulder as she tried to dodge too late.

Daphne brought up her elbow and lunged, catching her opponent's stomach. Paula staggered backwards, looking winded, but when Daphne came in for a final overconfident blow, the redhead swept her leg at her opponent's ankles, knocking her clean on her back.

The blonde laughed, covering her face as she laid on the floor. "Ah, fuck!"

"That was pretty fuckin' graceful, strawberry," Negan teased as he offered her a hand up.

"Thanks, I used to be a stripper," Daphne groaned as she stood, and then giggled at his raised eyebrow. "Kidding. Do I get to fight you next?"

"Mm, you couldn't fuckin' handle me babe," he drawled. "'Sides, we've got some sanctioned mischief to carry out." He motioned to Arat, who wheeled Simon in their direction. She tapped Donnie's shoulder on the way by, who was practically devouring Paula's face.

"You can fuck later," she barked, and they laughed, following her hand in hand. Daphne smiled at the couple, looking like teenagers caught making out in a car by the cops.

Negan led them upstairs, he and Arat hoisting Simon between them for each flight.

"Transport me, simpleton slaves!" the moustached man cried in a regal voice.

"Does he want to get pushed down the fuckin' stairs?" Negan asked his fellow simpleton slave, and she glanced back at the other three.

"Would be just like bowling." Arat grinned back at him, and the trio instantly split on the stairway, making a path should a wheelchair happen to fall towards them.

Simon produced two bottles of rum from somewhere in the chair as if by magic. "Wouldn't want to shatter my riches." He grinned, and Daphne wondered what kind of painkillers Carson had prescribed him. The man almost seemed happy-go-lucky.

"Well shit on a sandwich, that's why you're so fuckin' heavy!" Negan heaved the wheelchair dramatically onto the top landing.

"He's gonna be if he keeps sitting around on his ass all the time." Arat ruffled Simon's hair and he smacked her hand away.

"Maybe my ass will get as big as yours." He sneered, and she squished his cheeks in her hands.

"Big talk for a guy that needs help walking, love," she singsonged as she started to push him after their leather clad leader. Daphne practically skipped after them, alcohol coursing happily through her veins. Paula and Donnie picked up the rear, still holding hands and laughing.

Negan led them through his bedroom and through a set of glass double doors to a balcony. Daphne was surprised to see that it wasn't dusk yet, a warm glow on the horizon. In the basement, drinking and carrying on, it had felt like the middle of the night.

Negan stopped at a ladder and twirled around to Simon with a devious grin.

"Ready for a good ol' piggyback, my fatass damsel?" he asked, and Simon lunged at him off of his good leg. They wrestled a little and then Simon conceded, snaking his arms around his leader's neck. Negan climbed the ladder with his moustached friend hanging off of the back of him.

Daphne giggled. "I think this is the cutest thing I've ever seen."

"Two little boys climbing into their secret hideout," Arat added.

Negan smirked down at them. "Except girls are very much allowed to fuckin' come inside."

"Dirty little boys," Daphne retorted as she started to climb. When she crested the top, she couldn't help but laugh at the sight of couches and a pool table. It was laid out just like a kid's hideout.

She turned to the west, where the sun was hovering over the horizon, casting beautiful hues of pink and orange and purple.

"Come here, strawberry," Negan called, and she joined the group at the far edge of the roof. They were all crouched down, and he had a crossbow in his hand. "You ever fuckin' use one of these?"

She shook her head. "I've always wanted to learn." She sidled up next to him and watched him take aim.

Fat Joey was down there, pacing the fence, beer in one hand and sandwich in the other.

"Dwight took real good care of this fuckin' beauty," Negan said, a note of sadness in his voice. "It's accurate at 40 yards. Hell, probably 50. Further than that and you gotta have a little fuckin' finesse. Treat her like a fancy goddamn lady." He raised the bow and peered through the scope.

Daphne held her breath as she watched him, leather taut around around his arms. The smattering of light grey in the stubble along his graceful jawline glittered in the evening sun. His lip curled into a sly smile as he noticed her staring at him, and she blushed a bit, turning her gaze on Joey.

Negan loosed the arrow, and it punched right through the sandwich, splattering condiments all over Fat Joey's face and chest.

The group on the roof hooted and hollered, all of them save Simon getting to their feet to cheer.

"... fuckers!" was the only word that carried all the way up to them as their mark shook his middle finger in their direction.

Daphne was laughing so hard she was almost in tears, and held onto Paula for support.

"And that is some sanctioned fuckin mischief!" Negan bellowed.

Simon handed him a bottle of rum. They passed it around, drinking and laughing and shooting and smoking the evening away on the roof. In the dying light of that amazingly exciting day, Daphne looked around at her new comrades and realized she'd never felt happier in her entire life.


	23. XXIII - New World Order

Daphne hopped down from the exam table in the infirmary, a vial of ointment in hand. Ariadne removed her nitrile gloves.

"Just keep it as clean as possible," she said, "we've got enough to do without having to deal with self inflicted infections."

"Understandable," Daphne agreed. "How are they doing?" She turned her eyes on the woman in the corner, who was one of the ones they'd rescued the day before. Amber was checking her back, dressed in full scrubs with her long blonde hair woven up into a tight bun.

"Okay, given the circumstances. They are very grateful, if that's what you're asking," Ariadne said wryly.

"That's not what I'm asking." Daphne narrowed her eyes at the short nurse. "I'm worried about their health and mental state. And what they need going forward."

The brunette's eyes softened. "Sorry, it's been a long night." She crossed her arms. "Right now we're just focusing on keeping them comfortable. Three of them are pregnant."

Daphne blinked at her. She hadn't considered that, but it had been bound to happen.

"Only one of the three wants to keep the baby," Ariadne added, answering the unspoken question. "We don't have a safe way to abort the other two, so we're hoping they agree to stay and carry out the pregnancy. There are many women here that would jump at the chance to have a baby."

Daphne nodded. "I would imagine so. And at this point in the world, we really need a next generation." She smiled at Amber who glanced her way, and then quickly averted her gaze.

"Some of them are wanting to go home, but I'm not sure of the logistics of that," Ariadne continued. "Or if they even have a home to go back to."

"I'll get Colin to drop off some of his intake forms, if you can get them to fill them out," Daphne offered. "Then for the ones that want to go home, we can scout out where they're from and see if it's safe. I'd rather that then just shoving them out the door with nothing."

"Okay." The nurse nodded. "Thank you." She paused, and then spoke softly. "And thank you for Amber. We've missed her. I'm glad she got back here before doing something that endangered herself and Mark."

Daphne blinked at her. "I didn't do anything."

"You did enough," Ariadne replied. "Now go on, I have to prep for another patient."

"I'm glad the doc has you guys," Daphne said with a smile, and then left the infirmary. She headed to breakfast, feeling surprisingly good considering the amount of alcohol she'd imbibed the night before.

She'd crashed on Arat's couch, pretty much passing out as soon as her head hit the pillow. When she'd groaned and rolled over in the morning, Arat was already gone but had left her a bottle of water and a few pills on the coffee table.

Whatever the pills had been, they had taken the fuzzy-headedness away and after her trip to see Ariadne about her brand, Daphne's stomach was growling.

When she entered the mess hall, Paula waved her over. The whole crew was there, the kids piled on top of Primo, who had oatmeal in his hair. Talia was nursing the baby, and Molly motioned to a plate beside her.

"Thanks," Daphne said as she sat next to the older woman. "You guys didn't have to get my breakfast."

"Wasn't sure if you'd be able to see straight after all those shenanigans last night." Molly grinned.

"Oh no worries, I'm bright eyed and bushy tailed," Daphne said before diving into her food.

"Good, we've got a long drive today," Paula put in.

Daphne raised an eyebrow and swallowed her mouthful of eggs. "We?"

"You get to escort us to the outpost, little lady," Donnie answered, faking a pretty convincing Southern accent.

"Does that mean daddy gets to stay?" Belle piped up, running an affectionate hand through her father's gooey hair.

"No, honey, she's escorting them," Talia said gently. "That means she'll make sure daddy gets there safely."

"And Grandma?" Belle asked.

Daphne winked at her. "I don't think your Grandma needs escorting. She's a tough cookie."

"I love cookies," Patrick declared, and the adults shared a laugh.

"You and me both, little man," Donnie agreed.

Arat strode up a few minutes later, and Daphne offered her a smile. "Thanks for the supplies this morning."

"Glad they helped." Arat nodded. "We got you a room upstairs, you can get settled in when you get back. Fat Joey is moving your shit from the barracks."

Daphne picked up her empty plate and stood. "When do we head out?"

"Negan wants everyone out front in fifteen minutes," came the reply, and the blonde nodded.

"I'll meet you guys out there." She waved, and headed to drop her plate at the washing station. She swung by Colin's office to let him know about the intake forms, and then jogged to the marketplace. She stopped at a table where a woman sat with a ridiculous amount of papers.

"Do I talk to you about my points?" Daphne asked, and the woman looked over her horn rimmed glasses at the blonde.

"Yes ma'am," she replied quickly.

"Oh god, no ma'am's, please ma'am." Daphne laughed. "Just tell me how this works."

"I've got your points recorded in this here book, and I move them to where you want to spend them." She shrugged. "Easy as pie."

"Okay." Daphne leaned on the table. "I don't know how much things cost. Can you give Nicola enough to cover two weeks of thread and notions? And I want to buy a little wooden dog from the carpenters' kid."

"That doesn't really have a price, it's a pay-what-you-want kind of deal."

"Give him enough to buy something fun, I guess," Daphne shrugged. "I don't know what there is around here for kids? Maybe if he needs new tools or something."

The woman smiled. "He'll be excited about that."

"Good, okay, do that then." Daphne stood up. "So I can just go collect?"

"You're good to go, dear." The woman extended her hand. "I'm Anna, by the way."

"Daphne," she replied, and shook. "Thanks for your help."

"Anytime," Anna said, and turned back to her books. Daphne made her way to the woodworking station, where Byron was setting up a few new pieces.

"I'm here for my beagle," she announced, and the boy's eyes lit up.

He reached under the table and produced the tiny wooden animal. "I saved her for you."

Daphne took it and grinned. "Thanks, Byron." She motioned behind her. "I had Anna set aside points for you, I hope it's enough for you to get something cool."

"Maybe I could get a present for someone." He blushed and nervously glanced in the direction of the bakery.

Daphne followed his gaze and saw a young black haired girl kneading bread dough. The carpenter's son and the baker's daughter; how adorably cliche.

"I'm going on a run, but when I get back, I'll make you a nice present for her," she promised. "Use your points for something for you." She smiled. "I have to jet, thanks for the puppy."

"You're welcome!" Byron beamed at her, and she waved, turning to head for the front doors.

Negan leaned against the wall by the doors, ever the picture of relaxation. He pretended to check a watch on his wrist as she approached.

"You know, considering you didn't tell me that I was going out this morning, you're lucky I'm not still sleeping." She crossed her arms and pouted. "Are you that eager to get rid of me?"

"Don't fuckin' worry doll, you'll be seeing me soon." Negan smiled slyly. "I'm shipping you over there so you can meet Regina, and get a feel for how an outpost runs. Then she's going over to Gavin's, and I'll be picking you up for a little fuckin' trip of our own."

"Picking me up?" Daphne put a hand to her chest with an innocent gasp. "Are you asking to court me, Mister Negan?"

He snorted. "Are you sure I'd have your daddy's fuckin' blessing?"

"Never in a million years." Daphne cocked her head as she opened the door, laughing. Her father was likely rolling over in his grave at the thought of her even associating with a man like this.

"Play your cards right, strawberry," he drawled, "and you can call me daddy."


	24. XXIV - Regina

"Cunt!" Paula grunted as she was forced to take the final trick containing three hearts and the queen of spades.

Primo rubbed his hands together gleefully. "23 more points for you!"

"Wanna switch off, baby?" the redhead called to Donnie, who was driving the RV.

"Not when you're losing by fifty points, darling!" he replied sweetly, and Molly barked a laugh from the bedroom.

"Hate this fucking game," Paula muttered, and dealt the next hand of cards.

"So you get to do the fun run this month, huh?" Michelle asked.

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "Fun run?"

"Once a month Negan does a special run. He never comes back with anything, that we know of, anyway," Michelle explained, frowning as she looked over her hand. She picked out three and slid them to Primo. "Usually Simon goes with him, but since his leg is all fucked up I guess you get the honours."

"Oh, he would have taken her anyway," Paula teased, and slid Daphne three cards.

"I don't know, those are big shoes to fill," the blonde said. "I might have to grow a moustache. Think I would look good with a moustache? Maybe a goatee?" She rubbed her chin.

"Really, Chelle?" Primo groaned as he added Michelle's cards to his hand. "Hate this fucking game."

"We could play euchre instead," Daphne suggested, brightening. Donnie suddenly slammed on the brakes and they all scrambled to stay upright. Molly barrelled out of the back, wide eyed.

"What is it?" she asked breathlessly as Donnie hopped out his of his seat.

"If ya'll are playing euchre, I'll switch," he said, and Paula punched his shoulder.

"Asshole," she growled, but her lips twitched with a smile as she said it.

They drove for a few hours, and they'd played euchre (where Primo and Daphne remained undefeated) and eventually crazy eights when Molly decided napping wasn't working for her and joined the table.

The older woman dominated the game when Paula pulled up to a stop in front of an unimpressive concrete building.

"Ah, I will miss my creature comforts at home." Donnie stretched his arms over his head and cracked his spine as he stood. "I hope Darcy didn't fuck up our room too badly," he said as Paula led the way outside.

Daphne trailed out last, and heard a high pitched squeal.

"Paula, baby!" A tall tanned woman with a honey brown mohawk practically flew to the redhead, wrapping her in a warm hug.

"Hi, Regina," Paula croaked, feigning like she couldn't breathe, and the tall woman trilled a laugh. She turned to Donnie, who swung her around in a circle, eliciting giggles. She jumped on Primo next, and he staggered a bit.

"How are the kids? Did you bring a picture of the baby? You better have brought a picture of the baby!" Regina gushed, shoving his shoulder.

"You're going to see her in the morning," Molly teased, and accepted her hug from the woman.

"But she'll already be so much bigger!" the tall lieutenant whined. "I need to get my cuddles in before she gets too big!"

"As if you don't cuddle big people." Michelle laughed and wrapped her arms around Regina. "It's too bad you won't be sticking around tonight."

"Well, Gavin needs cuddles too," the woman giggled again and then her eyes fell on Daphne. "And who is this beauty?"

"This is Daphne, our new lieutenant," Michelle introduced, and the blonde waved awkwardly, a little shell shocked by the woman's flamboyance. "Dwight's out. You have some catching up to do."

"I guess so." Regina opened her arms. "Hug me, new lieutenant. We're on hugging terms now."

Daphne stepped forward, bewildered, and gave in to a squeeze from her new coworker.

Regina's green eyes sparkled. "Wow, you have great tits, too."

"Are you for real?" Daphne turned to Michelle. "Is she for real?"

"I am so very for real." Regina winked, and then slid her arm through Michelle's. "Wait until you see what Alec did with the kitchen, it's fucking fabuloso!"

They headed inside, and Daphne turned to a smirking Paula.

The redhead grinned. "I could have warned you that Gina is a bursting bottle of sunshine. But this was way more fun."

Regina's four man crew loaded up their supplies in the RV. They had an extra truck of goods from their supply lines to trade with Gavin, and eventually bring home.

There was a whole shift of people that lived at the outpost full time, and the lieutenants and their core crews rotated in and out every month. This gave them time to see their families safe in the Sanctuary instead of carting them out there where it was marginally less safe.

Regina took Michelle upstairs to catch up, and Paula gave Daphne a tour of the place before they congregated in the kitchen for a late lunch.

"Should we wait for the other two?" Daphne asked as she admired the well designed kitchen, complete with a flat top stove and an island sink.

"Oh, they'll be awhile." Paula waved her off.

"They're fucking, aren't they?" the blonde inquired, and Primo laughed.

"Most definitely," he replied. They joked and ate and enjoyed their time together before heading outside to see if the crew needed help loading up. Michelle joined them a few minutes later, carrying a crate, and Regina bounced after her, a healthy blush on her cheeks.

"So, slayer." She poked Daphne in the ribs. "You've caused quite a buzz."

"A little." The blonde smiled wryly. "You and Michelle get all caught up?"

"Oh, yes." Regina sighed, and licked her lips. "It is so very nice to catch up with friends." There was a roar in the distance and she smirked. "Speaking of friends..."

The sun flashed off of a shiny red sports car as it crested the horizon, engine growling fiercely on the downshift.

Daphne rubbed her forehead. "He has a Gallardo. Of course he has a fucking Gallardo."

"He sure does," Regina said in a singsong voice. "Listen, I don't know which of us will be back at Sanctuary first, but I want to commission a dress. Something slinky, shiny, maybe in dark green or maroon? Put me at the top of the list, yeah?"

Daphne laughed, still bewildered by how fast this woman talked. "You'd be the only one on the list."

Negan's cherry red Lamborghini skidded to a stop before them, and the blonde crossed her arms, shifting her hips and raising an eyebrow. Fun run, indeed.

He exited the beastly vehicle and opened his arms. "GiGi," he greeted with a grin, and she hugged him delicately, kissing his cheek.

"How have you been, doll face?" Regina asked, and Daphne stifled a laugh.

"Fuckin' right kind of wonderful," Negan replied, spreading his arms for effect. "I see you've gotten acquainted with my new hellcat."

"Not too acquainted." The leggy brunette winked, and he pouted.

"That's just too fuckin' bad." He sighed dramatically. "You ready for our date, strawberry?"

"Uh uh, I got told what this is." Daphne waved her hand at the beautiful car. "Unless you're romancing Simon every month, this isn't a date."

"Why do you think I do it once a month?" Negan grinned deviously. "Gotta keep him happy when he's on his fuckin' period."

Paula barked a laugh from behind her. "He's not going to be impressed with that comment."

"Poor thing is all alone with a bum leg and I've stolen his date."

Daphne turned and gave Paula a hug goodbye. Negan watched with a hint of pride on his face as she said goodbye to the crew, amazed at how close she'd gotten with them in so short a time.

"She fits in well," Regina said quietly to him, echoing his thoughts. "I think you'll fit well in her, too."

Negan rubbed her hair and she smacked his hand away. "Ah, GiGi, I love your gutterslut fuckin' mind."

"Don't ruffle my feathers, fiend!" she cried as Daphne strode over to them.

"Well, I'm ready to ride in your red rocket, sir." She saluted.

Regina doubled over in a fit of giggles. "Oh sweetie, it was an absolute joy to meet you," she gasped and extended her hand. Daphne shook it with a smile.

"Pleasure's all mine," she said. "We'll talk dresses when I get back."

"It's a date." Regina winked and Negan shoved her out of the way so he could walk around to the passenger side and open the door.

"Milady." He bowed low and Daphne shook her head, sliding into the seat. He closed her in and she ran a hand over the dashboard, marvelling at how low to the ground she was.

She was going for a drive through the apocalypse in a red Lamborghini with quite possibly the sexiest man on earth. These were strange times, strange times indeed.


	25. XXV - Red Rocket

The car was a beast, and a ball of excitement roiled inside Daphne's belly at the acceleration holding her in her seat. She glanced over at Negan's shit eating grin, the face of a little boy with his favourite toy. It was surprisingly endearing, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"Enjoying your fuckin' chariot, strawberry?" he drawled, and shifted into sixth, opening up the gear box for the climb to the car's top end. The road was clear of debris, and she assumed that if this route was taken once a month, he would have made sure didn't hinder his joyride.

"I always preferred the Huracan," she said flippantly.

He barked a laugh and shook his head. "You're a tough fuckin' woman to impress."

Daphne raised an eyebrow. Negan was the epitome of laid back perfection, all leather and scruff leaning back in his seat with an arm draped over the steering wheel and the other hand lazily sitting on the shifter. To say the King of the Saviors impressed her was an understatement.

But she wasn't about to admit that.

"And why would you be trying to impress me, o great leader?" she teased.

"You're a sassy little bitch, that's why," Negan replied, and she scoffed, feigning offense. He just laughed at her, and she couldn't help but join in. She ran her hand along the dashboard appreciatively.

"What is this again, V10?" she inquired, enjoying the sucking roar of the engine.

He nodded. "You a fuckin' mechanic as well as a seamstress?"

Daphne briefly entertained the idea of lying to him, but shot it down. She'd gotten where she wanted to be, and since she'd been slapped with the title of Lieutenant, loyalty had been slowly growing in her chest like a patriotic tumour.

"No, my roommates in college played a lot of Gran Turismo." She laughed. "They had steering wheel controllers and everything."

Negan shook his head. "Fuckin' nerds."

"We can't all be Lords of the Apocalypse with a supercar in our garage," she said. "I bet you didn't have one of these in your past life."

He cackled. "Shit, no. Definitely fuckin' not."

"What did you do?" she pressed, voice playful. "Bartender? Retail? Pimp?" She snapped her fingers. "Oh, baseball player?"

He shot her a bewildered look. "Gym teacher," he said, and then smirked at the look of shock on Daphne's face.

"You're not serious." She giggled. "You're shitting me right now. You? A teacher? A gym teacher?" She flipped her hair and her voice went up an octave. "Oh, Mr. Negan, I don't want to run any more laps, can't we work something out?"

He drew his bottom lip between his teeth as she batted her eyelashes and twirled a blonde curl with her finger. She saw heat in his amber eyes, and his hooded gaze made her clench her thighs together. She hissed at the surprisingly pleasant sting of her brand as she did so, and his smirk widened.

"We could definitely fuckin' work something out, little miss strawberry," he drawled in a low husk, and Daphne cursed her traitorous libido for her warmth at his words. An image fluttered through her mind of Negan sitting on a plush bed, bending her over his lap, smacking her bare ass with one hand, the other screwing two fingers into her pussy.

She was surprised at this, as she had never been the submissive type, but the realization that she was wet at the scenario made her think that this man was bringing something out in her. She shivered with arousal, the car suddenly feeling too small next to Negan's overwhelming maleness.

He watched her in his periphery, satisfied with her response to him. He imagined tying her to the seat, playing with her pretty little clit as he drove, listening to her beg him to fuck her over the hood of the car. His cock twitched into semi-erectness and he stifled a groan.

They rode in silence for a while, the silence itself not uncomfortable but the unspoken sexual tension becoming more unbearable by the minute.

Eventually Negan downshifted to turn onto a dirt road, and Daphne let out a soft breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. He took it slow along the rough terrain, into the shade of the thick trees on either side of them. She leaned forward at the sight of a beaten up station wagon on the side of the road, the tailgate open with a brown clad man sitting atop it.

"Behold the fuckin' fruits of our labour, baby," Negan said as he exited the car, leaving it running. Daphne got out, stretching as she did so, moaning at the crackle of her back.

The mystery man hopped down to his feet and extended his hand. "I'll never get over that ridiculous ride you got there."

Negan shook it with a smirk, leaning lazily to one side. He motioned to his female comrade, who sidled up to them, eyes dutifully scanning the trees.

"Robin, Daphne, Daphne, Robin," he introduced, and she graciously shook the man's hand.

"Nice to meetcha." Robin smiled and pulled a small brown paper bag from the trunk. "Much more charming than Simon."

She grinned back. "Nobody is more charming than Simon."

Negan snorted and took the bag. "Always a fuckin' pleasure-" he started, but was cut off when Robin's forehead exploded.

Daphne sprang into action, barrelling into Negan from behind. He scrambled forward as gunshots rang, bullets riddling the two vehicles.

"Shooting from the shadows, pussy motherfuckers?!" he roared, and she thrust a gun into his open hand, cocking her own. There was a short break in the gunfire and she grabbed the back of his jacket collar, hauling him after her to duck behind the red rocket.

He popped up over the hood, took aim, and fired three times, eyes maniacal. Daphne yanked him back down as bullets riddled the trees behind them again. There was a hissing pop and she growled at the tear in the shoulder of his coat.

"Hit?" she barked, and he shook his head.

"Grazed," he replied, and popped back up again. She jerked him back down hard by the arm, and he tried to shove her away. "What the fuck are you doing?" His eyes blazed.

"Saving your stupid fucking ass," she snapped, and opened the passenger door, heaving him into the low car with all her strength. She leapt in over him feet first, slipping into the driver's seat. "Close the door!" she screamed as a bullet punched through the window far too close to her head for comfort.

As he slammed the door, Daphne tossed her gun at his feet and grabbed the back of his neck, shoving him down into her lap. She caught sight of men jumping out from the trees as she threw the car into gear and punched the clutch, praying the gearbox was forgiving in this car.

It was, but first gear was very short and she quickly shifted into second, peeling out just as an enemy reached the driver's side.

"When I imagined my head in your lap this wasn't what I fuckin' had in mind!" Negan tried to sit up and she elbowed him in the back of the head as she shifted into third. "Ow, what the fuck?!" he bellowed into her thigh, arms scrabbling for leverage.

"Stay down, idiot!" she cried as the rear window shattered. The racing wheels spun too fast at the redline and Daphne grunted, easing up and trying to stay calm and focused as she shifted into fourth.

The station wagon swung around in her rear view mirror and she realized their attackers had jacked it from poor dead Robin. A black pickup burst from between two trees, fishtailing before speeding after them.

"Fuck cunt shit fucking fuck," she muttered, knowing that once they got on the paved road she'd easily be able to outrun them. She just hoped the tires would take them there, and that no bullets would find anything vital to their escape.

Negan rolled over onto his back, having given up fighting her, and brought his hands up to clasp them over his chest.

"You're fuckin' sexy when you're panicking." He stuck the tip of his tongue out through his teeth and she resisted the urge to smash them down his throat. At least he was being agreeable to staying out of the line of fire.

"You're disruptive when I'm trying to do my job," she snapped, avoiding a pothole.

"If you let me out the sunroof I will rain hell on these cocksuckers." He grinned, enjoying the view of her pert tits from below.

"This isn't the movies. You can't shoot your way out of a car chase." Daphne gunned it a little harder, battling to stay straight on the gravel. The black jeep gained slightly and she growled. "And for the record, I'm not panicking. I don't panic." She sounded petulant and Negan chuckled.

The paved road was in view, and her heart leapt into her throat. She had been half lying when she said she wasn't panicking. White hot adrenaline thrummed her nerves, and when that bullet had grazed her leader's shoulder her heart had nearly stopped. But she channelled that intensity into action, and her objective was getting him home alive.

As soon as the Gallardo's tires hit pavement, she slammed the accelerator, reveling in the sweet force holding her in her seat. She turned left, not wanting to lead these assholes anywhere near Savior land.

"Once I get far enough ahead, you need to navigate," Daphne instructed. She didn't know the area at all, and though she could find the way back from the dirt road, the more she went in the wrong direction, the less likely she'd be able to circle back around effectively.

"I'm not a fuckin' GPS," Negan protested, a playful note to his voice.

"No, I forgot, you're a difficult asshole," she muttered, shifting into fifth gear.

"Once we take out these shit nuggets, I'll get us home," he said.

She rolled her eyes. Of course he wanted to fight instead of run. She knew she could easily outrun them now, but they'd killed Robin, and tried to kill Negan and his lieutenant. She knew she should get her leader to safety; they were outmanned and outgunned.

But he wanted retribution. And the likelihood of finding these assholes again would be slim.

Daphne downshifted when she spotted a smattering of cars littering the road ahead. The route here had been clear, but this random road wasn't. She grunted, realizing fate had just made a decision in Negan's favour.

"You always get what you want, don't you?" she muttered, and shoved him off of her lap into a sitting position. "Hand me my gun. I'll swing around and we'll take them head on."

"Atta girl!" He grinned wildly and reached behind the driver's seat, producing an automatic rifle.

"You've had that this whole time?" Daphne couldn't help but laugh at this point. "Of course you have. Hold on." She hit the clutch and fisted the emergency brake, sliding the car around in a tight 180 degree arc. She accelerated again, and Negan stood, top half out the sunroof, firing at the oncoming vehicles.

She tried to ignore his crotch in her face as she sped forward, narrowing her eyes at the approaching vehicles. She threw the gearbox into neutral and wrapped an arm around his leg tightly as she braked, skidding the car sideways.

Negan opened fire, catching the gunner in the back of the jeep, and then lowering to pepper the windshield with bullets. Daphne shoved open the door, leaning down low to aim at the tires. The driver was hit and the truck slowed drastically, the station wagon smashing into the back of it.

She rolled out of the car, dashing forward to take cover at the front of the truck. Negan climbed up to stand on the roof of the Lambo, Lucille in one hand, gun in the other. Daphne darted around the truck to see one man staggering out of the driver's seat of the station wagon, shakily waving his gun around.

She shot his hand, and he cried out, falling to his knees. Negan trotted down the hood of the car, swinging the bat as he went. Daphne inspected both cars for survivors and found everyone dead.

The leather clad maniac pointed the bat at the sole survivor. "And who the fuck praytell are you?"

"We- we just wanted your car!" the man cried, clutching his bleeding hand.

Negan leaned down with a grin. "Do you know who the fuck I am?"

"I do now." The man visibly shook as his eyes fixed on Lucille. "I wouldn't have-"

"Yeah, I bet you wouldn't have fucked with us if you'd known," he cut him off. "But you did fuck with us. Where do you lay your ugly ass head at night, hm?"

"We've been sleeping in the truck." The man lowered his eyes, seeming to realize where this was going.

"Well, you'd better get back to your fuckin' friends then," Negan said, and raised Lucille high. A flood of relief washed over Daphne as wood and wire connected with skull. They were alive and unharmed, the danger was dead, and their ride home was stalled but still in one piece.

Realization flitted up her spine in that moment that for the first time since the beginning of apocalypse, she'd actually been afraid. Being so wholly responsible for this man's safety had given her a purpose, a cause worth fighting for other than simply surviving. Protecting the Sanctuary was worth every swing of Lucille, and when Negan stepped back to admire his handiwork, she stared at him with stark clarity.

This man had really created the New World.

"Well, that's all tied up in a neat little fuckin' bow." He spread his arms with a satisfied grin. "Good work, strawberry."

"You too, pumpkin." Daphne smiled wryly.

He barked a laugh. "Come on, baby, let's fuckin' roll." He strutted back to the car, and she followed, eyes on that perfect ass. "We can stop by ground zero and see if my avocados made it."

She froze mid step. "Avocados?"

He turned to her with a grin. "Robin grew 'em. Love the fuckin' things. Since I won't be getting any more, it would be fan-fucking-tactic if they were still-"

"You risked your life for fucking avocados?" Daphne's voice rose an octave and her face felt hot.

He rolled his eyes as if dealing with a child. "Oh for fuck's sake."

"Are you kidding me? That man died to bring you FRUIT?!"

"-and with you fuckin' overreacting-"

"-saving your bat wielding ass from a gun fight-"

"-elbowed me in the fucking head! If we had just stayed-"

"-if it had been Simon with his fucked up leg? You would both be dead as-"

"-my fucking mother or what?" Negan threw up his hands.

Daphne shoved his chest hard. "You're a selfish, childish fucking moron," she spat, eyes blazing. He dropped Lucille and grabbed her by the throat, slamming her against the car. She reached up to slap him but he subdued her wrist in his strong hand, pressing her body still with his own.

A million retorts halted on the edge of his tongue, evaporating at the sight of her wild eyes and parted lips. Her chest heaved, and in her anger she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He tightened his hold on her throat and crushed his lips against hers.


	26. XXVI - Please

Daphne immediately grasped a fistful of Negan's shirt with her free hand, hiking her unbranded thigh up over his hip. He groaned into her mouth and she swallowed it, reveling in the feel of his chiselled body against hers.

She felt drunk on him, the heady combination of his possessive hands and expert tongue leaving her mind a muddled mess. The adrenaline from the car chase raged in her chest and the line between the need to fight or fuck completely dissolved, leaving her helpless to his utter maleness.

His rock hard cock pressed against her like a weapon of mass destruction and she whimpered at the feel of it. They both knew vaguely that they shouldn't be devouring each other in the middle of an open space after all the noise the battle had just made. But there was no quenching these flames now. Enemies be damned, they both needed this.

Daphne wrapped her lips around Negan's tongue and sucked, causing his hips to buck in response. She keened at the force of his steel rod smashing into her pussy at just the right angle, though it wasn't enough with their clothes in the way.

He broke their heated kiss, letting go of her wrist to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. It would have been tender almost, had his other hand not still been holding her throat. But she didn't want his tenderness. She wanted his fury.

He searched her face, her hooded gaze, swollen lips, looking for permission, for acceptance of what he wanted to do to her. She rolled her hips as much as she was able to move, but he clamped his free hand down on her waist to still her.

"I need verbal fuckin' confirmation," he said, a warning tone in his husky voice. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth and she thought she might come just at the sight of him.

She moaned, eyes fluttering closed, and he let go of her throat to wind his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck. She squeaked as he jerked her head back, forcing her to look up at him.

"You speak when I fuckin' tell you to," he hissed, face stern but his eyes alight with mischievous joy.

Daphne opened her mouth but no sound came out. She was so impossibly horny and she didn't know what she was supposed to say, what would cause him to give her what she was craving.

"Tell me or I'll stop fuckin' touching you," Negan warned, wrenching her head back even further, an edge of desperation to his voice.

"Just fuck me!" she cried, arching her spine and clutching the lapels of his jacket. "Take me, have me, fuck me, please."

The words tumbled out of her mouth crazily and he chuckled, lowering his lips to the hollow of her throat. Her perfect tits crushed against his chest, tiny waist in his hand, panting and begging for him. It was all he'd ever wanted, presented on a red Lamborghini-shaped platter.

The way the plea had burst from her lips like a prayer made his cock even tighter than before. He kissed up her neck, and she dug her fingers into the leather shoulders of his jacket, whimpering at her inability to move the rest of her body. He reached her ear and breathed hotly against it, making her shiver.

"You speak when I fucking tell you to speak," he reiterated, curling his hand around to her jaw and stroking her parted lips with his thumb for effect. "You come when I fucking tell you to come." He pressed his cock against her and rolled his hips, making her bite back a tortured moan. "You take every fucking inch I give you, and then you fucking thank me for it like the polite little bitch you are."

He pulled away from her ear to look her in the eyes, and saw desperation with a glimmer of defiance. He grinned darkly down at her. It was the defiance that would be oh-so-fun.

"Do you understand?" he asked.

"Yes," she breathed, anticipation dancing along her nerves to set her skin on fire.

"Tell me your fuckin' name, then," he commanded, and she moaned the thing he most loved to hear her say.

"Negan."


	27. XVII - Shiny Red Platter

Negan claimed Daphne's lips again, swallowing every mewl as he hooked his strong arm under her ass and lifted her against him. She snaked her arms around his neck, hooking her ankles together against his lower back.

He moved around to the front of the car and broke their heated kiss to slam her down on the hood. She clawed at the collar of his jacket, shoving it down his shoulders, and he shrugged it off gracefully before grasping her wrists and pinning them above her head.

"Yesterday I asked you to suck my cock," Negan said teasingly, pressing his body against hers to keep her from squirming, "and you punched me in the fuckin' face." He kissed the soft curve of her jaw lightly, then nipped, smirking at the whine he elicited from her. "Today, I am a goddamn gentleman, and you're begging me to fuck you." He kissed her collarbone next. "Pleading." He bit lightly into her shoulder and she growled, twisting her wrists in his. "Now the kitten is growling at the fuckin' lion."

In a display of dominance, he took both of Daphne's wrists in one strong hand and slid the other down between them. He popped the button on her stretchy jeans expertly and drew the zipper down. Her hips bucked involuntarily and he chuckled at her eagerness, pride and ego masking his own.

He dipped his hand beneath her panties, running his fingers through the smattering of soft curls there. When his middle finger gave an experimental swipe down her slick folds, they moaned in unison.

"Your little pussy is so fuckin' wet," Negan hissed, his cock so hard it felt like it was going to explode. "Hell, I bet you've been running around all fuckin' hot and bothered for a while, strawberry." He drew the pad of his calloused finger up her clit and her legs trembled. "When did you first get all fuckin' fired up over me?"

Daphne struggled to control her ragged breaths as she met his gaze, finding desperate need hiding under the playful twinkle there. "When I watched you clean Lucille," she answered, voice hoarse, and licked her lips. "I made myself come three times in the shower."

He barked a laugh and parted her folds with his fingers, ghosting his middle digit up and down over her swollen nub. "And then you walked out of that bathroom looking like sex on a fuckin' stick and called me professor," he purred, speeding up his ministrations.

Her eyes slid closed again and she keened at the feel of him manipulating her sensitive flesh, an orgasm already building.

He drew his bottom lip between his teeth. "Do you know why, strawberry?"

Daphne shook her head, unable to form words, focusing on his hand on her, his finger sliding and swirling and-

Stopping. She opened her mouth to wail a protest, tears nearly springing to her eyes. His control over her in this moment was all-encompassing and intense, and she'd never felt so aware of her own body in her life. Every single nerve ending was electric, at attention, from her fingertips to her toes, her body alight with magic.

And this single smirking man owned the wand.

"Because this sweet little cunt belongs to me now," Negan declared, holding her folds open but not touching her aching clit. "And you won't ever be fuckin' satisfied by anything else." He pushed two fingers inside of her and curled them upward, pressing against a soft spot that made Daphne slam her head down against the car twice. His thumb circled her bundle of nerves and that was it.

An orgasm hit her like a freight train and she shrieked with the force of it, body tensing as her core exploded with pleasure. He drew it out, pumping and stroking and watching her writhe and wail and practically sob with euphoria. Face and chest flushed, eyes screwed shut, lips parted; she was perfection.

When the waves subsided and her body fell limp against the shiny red platter she'd been served up on, Negan removed his hand from between her legs. He caught her half lidded gaze and brought a finger to his lips, running his tongue across it to taste her on him. She tasted like heaven and hell and life and sugar and spice and everything Daphne.

"Oh god..." she moaned as she watched him savour her on his fingers, and a devilish grin crossed his perfect features.

"Now baby, you know you aren't supposed to fuckin' speak out of turn," he said, ghosting a hand down her cheek to rest on her chin. "And I sure as shit didn't tell you to come." He grasped her jaw tightly and she squirmed, still riding the aftershocks of her orgasm all the way to anticipation for what was coming next.

Negan pursed his lips thoughtfully. "What to do with my disobedient little fuckin' slut..." She narrowed her eyes, post-orgasm adrenaline starting to course through her veins.

In a swift movement, Daphne brought her legs up and kicked him in the stomach. He landed hard on his ass, a look of shock etched on his face before she pounced on him.

She pinned his arms with her knees, straddling his chest. His shock melted into amusement, and he smirked up at her.

"Very fuckin' disobedient," he drawled.

"I got what I wanted," she teased, patting his cheek almost as hard as a slap. "I could just leave you to blueball yourself to death."

"You're not fuckin' going to do that, strawberry," Negan declared, and it was more of an observation than a demand.

Daphne crossed her arms, digging her knees into his biceps. "What makes you so sure?"

"You didn't get what you fuckin' wanted," he said, his lopsided grin the response to her playful scowl. "I coaxed an orgasm out of that sweet little pussy of yours-" He shoved up with his arms, flipping her onto her back, following her down to pin her with his body. An involuntary moan escaped her as his massive arousal pressed against her hips, and he smirked. "-but it's my fuckin' cock that you really want."

She curled her hands around the back of his neck and dug in with her fingernails. He growled and snatched a fistful of her hair, dragging her to her feet. He threw her face down onto the hood of the car, hand secured to the back of her throat to hold her there.

Daphne pressed her palms flat against the red surface, breathing heavy. His dominance lit a fire inside of her, one that she didn't know existed. She'd lashed out because she wanted to push him, see how far she could break his rules and see what he would do about it. Excitement bubbled up in her belly like a maelstrom.

Negan hooked his free hand under the back waistband of her panties and jerked them down around her thighs, taking her pants with them. He gently rubbed his leather gloved palm in slow circles on her bare ass cheek, chuckling as she squirmed.

"Look at this tight fuckin' ass of yours," he cooed, and then brought his hand down with a rough thwack and she shrieked. "Oh come on, doll, that wasn't even that fuckin' hard." His voice was sweet as honey in contrast to the words he spoke, and Daphne was so wet she thought her body might dehydrate.

He brought his hand down on the other cheek this time, harder, and she groaned. It stung, for sure, but the pain sent delicious shocks to other parts of her body. The utter degradation of being bent over and so exposed to him made her flush with arousal and gooseflesh danced up her arms.

"You break my fuckin' rules-"

Smack.

"-and then you fuckin' lie to me-"

Smack.

"-and now you're gagging for my cock like it's your last fuckin' breath of air."

Smack.

Daphne cried out on the last one, near coming again. Her ass burned, his soft glove massaging her cheeks, and her clit pulsed so hard she thought she might die if he didn't fuck her right then and there.

"Your ass matches your name now, strawberry!" Negan said gleefully, and then slipped his middle finger inside her. Her legs shook with the sensation and he hissed, drawing his lower lip between his teeth. "When I think you couldn't possibly get any fuckin' wetter doll, you prove me wrong. Shit, I've never been so wrong in my whole fuckin' life!"

She pushed her hips back against his hand, and he removed it, much to her whimpering displeasure. She heard a sick snarl and Negan leaned over her, breath hot against her ear.

"I'm going to take care of this fucker, and I don't want you to move even a cunt hair from this position," he growled. "Your hands stay flat against this fuckin' hood and you keep your ass on display for me like a good girl, you understand?" His demand was laced with menace.

"Yes," Daphne whispered, voice hoarse with arousal.

He retrieved Lucille from the ground and she heard a few wet smacks as he took care of the walking corpse.

He leaned the bat up against the driver's side door and admired his Lieutenant, dutifully bent over the hood of his car. It was an even better sight than he'd imagined, and he ran a hand down the curve of her still red ass.

"He's got a fuckin' gaggle of buddies heading this way," he said. "I'm going to fuck you. It's going to be fast, and it's going to be fucking brutal." She moaned at his words, her pussy clenching with anticipation. "Then we're gonna to go home." He unzipped his pants and the sound was euphoric to her ears. "You're gonna to fuckin' strip for me and I'm gonna worship every inch of you fuckin' proper."

She tensed at the feel of the head of his cock against her, and he rubbed her lower back tenderly with his free hand.

"Relax, doll, otherwise this will hurt more than it fuckin' needs to," he cooed, and she whimpered, willing her body to comply. "Ready, strawberry?"

"So ready," she keened, a desperate edge to her voice.

Negan grinned and started to push into her slowly, nearly going cross eyed at the feeling of her stretching to accommodate him.

"God, your pussy is so fucking tight," he groaned.

Daphne hissed, the sharp pain of being so impossibly filled driving her wild. Inch by agonizing inch he sunk into her, and she panted, clawing at the hood of the car.

When he was buried to the hilt, he leaned down, snaking one arm around her waist and the other around her shoulders. He held her flush against him, and kissed her sweat slicked neck.

"You feel so fucking good," he murmured against her skin, and she let out a ragged breath as she adjusted to his massive girth inside of her. He started to rock his hips and she gripped the arm around her collarbone, holding on as if her life depended on it. Every movement of his sculpted rod inside of her elicited waves of bliss, and she no longer had any control over the whines and squeals leaving her lips.

Negan wrapped his hand around Daphne's throat and bit down into her shoulder, pistoning into her wet heat faster. He steadily picked up the pace, lowering the hand around her waist to her hip to give her lower half some stability as he started to slam into her.

She shrieked with the force of each thrust, her entire being encompassed by the pleasure of his flesh being massaged by hers. He straightened up, taking her with him, and pounded into her with guttural grunts.

An orgasm started to build deep in her belly and she bit her lip so hard she felt it would tear in half, but the pain didn't register only the heat mattered, the broiling churning ball of pleasure that was cooling tighter and tighter like his strong hand around her throat and he moaned something unintelligible into her ear but all she knew was his cock inside her, stretching her, opening her to him and it was like a bomb went off inside of her and she clawed at him, wailing and spasming, her pussy milking his dick with abandon and then he was kissing her, drinking her moans and cries like the elixir of life, and nothing in that moment mattered except forever riding the waves of their passion through an endless sea.


	28. XVIII - Fruit

Negan broke their kiss when it became too painful for him to keep his softening cock inside of her. He slipped out, eliciting a small squeak of discomfort from the blonde he'd just thoroughly fucked.

Daphne went limp in his arms. "-egotistical bastard-"

He caught half of what she was muttering, and he chuckled, grinning wolfishly down at her, turning her towards him.

"You fucking love it," he whispered, nipping at her lips, and she slapped him weakly on the cheek.

She did. She did fucking love it. She'd thought having sex with him would get it out of her system and they could just carry on as King and Savior, but she was craving him even more now and the force of it scared her.

"I hate to cut short our pillow talk, doll, but we've got a fuckin' audience ready to riot." Negan pointed to the impressive group of walkers ambling ever closer up the road.

Daphne gave her head a mental shake and stood up on jello legs, hissing softly as she pulled her jeans back up over her very tender lower half. She glared playfully at his smirk and jogged around to the passenger side of the car.

He retrieved his jacket and Lucille, the latter who had fallen back down to the pavement with the force of their thrusting against the hood. "Hope the fuckin' suspension is still intact," he declared jovially as he slid into the driver's seat, and revved the engine.

Daphne gazed at the definition in his arm as he shifted, the relaxed grin on his face as the car leapt forward to take them home. The glint of the silver hairs in his beard in the sunlight seemed to reflect the warmth of her entire body, and she stretched her legs out, crossing them at the ankle.

"I'm not one of your simpering whores in a black dress," she said, breaking the silence. "Sitting around painting my nails waiting for you to tell me what to do."

"No, you're my fuckin' Lieutenant, waiting around for me to tell you what to do." His eyes twinkled mischievously as he glanced at her and she scowled. "I understand, strawberry, no fuckin' worries. What we did, and how we fuckin' did it, doesn't change your job or status or whatever the fuck you want to call it. I won't be stifling your badassery by locking you in a tower with the rest of my 'simpering whores', as you so fuckin' eloquently put it."

Daphne relaxed, thankful he'd caught her drift. "Thank you."

"Though if you wanted to wear a sexy little black dress I wouldn't fuckin' complain." Negan drew his bottom lip between his teeth and she flicked his ear hard with her index finger.

As it turned out, the bag of avocados had survived the fray. They sat together on the tailgate of Robin's truck, cutting into the fruit with a Swiss Army knife. Daphne moaned at the feel of the smooth green fruit in her mouth. She'd never thought she'd get to have one again, and she savoured every bite.

"Fuck, I'm going to miss these." Negan sighed, slicing open the skin of the fourth avocado. There had been five, and he'd decided to bring the last one back for Simon.

"Did Robin have family?" she asked, tossing pits and skins into the bushes. She crossed her legs and winced at the tenderness of her lower half.

"Not that I know of," her leader replied thoughtfully. "But that doesn't mean someone won't come fuckin' lookin'."

She motioned to the blood strewn across the pavement. "They might think you did this."

"Then they can come find me and we'll set the record fuckin' straight." Negan shrugged and hopped down, turning to look inside the back of the station wagon.

Daphne looked down at the last avocado half in her hand, and then let out a groan of dismay.

"What's the fuckin' problem, doll?" he asked from the backseat, rifling through a bag of tools.

"When we got here the first time you said 'fruits of our labour'," she whined, putting her hand to her head. He barked a laugh and she groaned again. "You made that pun on purpose, didn't you?"

"Shit yeah, babe," he replied with a grin.

She threw an avocado pit at him. "Ugh, you're such a loser."

Daphne drove Robin's truck back to the Sanctuary, struggling to keep up with the Lamborghini but managing to stay on course. When the compound loomed in the distance, her heart fluttered a little. She was surprised at how good it felt to be home.

Because this was home.

As she waited for the front gate to open, she noticed two familiar looking corpses chained to either side. Dwight and Sherry snarled at her as she passed, forever protecting the Sanctuary that killed them.


	29. XXIX - Home

After a blisteringly hot shower, Daphne poked her head into the infirmary on her way to dinner. Amber was sitting at the back desk with a stack of papers, but she was the only nurse around. The Lieutenant decided against making Negan's ex-wife uncomfortable with questions, and turned to duck back out.

"Hey!" a female called from one of the beds, and Daphne leaned back inside, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, you, I don't know your name." She had molasses hair and chocolate eyes and the blonde recognized her as one of the Nomad victims.

"Daphne," she said gently, and walked over to the cot.

"Mel," the woman replied, extending her hand. "Ariadne said you're going to get us home."

"We're going to try," Daphne corrected. "We have a lot of reach. I just want to make sure that you have a home to go back to first."

Mel put her hand over her belly. "Even if it's gone, I need to go back. There's something I need to find. For my child."

"Would you stay there, alone with a baby?" the blonde asked, taking the reins of the conversation.

The brunette shook her head. "That depends on whether the house is still standing. Those bastards killed my boyfriend and my three brothers, so I know there's nobody there waiting for me."

"Then you should stay here," Daphne said firmly. "You and your baby will be safer here."

Mel lowered her gaze. "I know it seems silly. To have such sentimentality when the world has gone to shit. But that house was my great great grandfather's. It's been passed down to each of us... and we were safe there until the Nomads came. I have family heirlooms there, things I'd want to give to my child someday. I want them to know where they came from, that the world wasn't always like this."

"It's not silly," Daphne replied. "Did you fill out a form? So we know where the house is?" Receiving a nod, she continued. "Write down, in detail, what each of the items is. Give it to Ariadne when you're done and when we go check out the house I will personally make sure I find each one if they're still there."

Mel looked the Lieutenant in the eyes, her own brimming with tears. "Thank you. I don't know how I can repay you, any of you, for saving my life."

"You can stay here." Daphne sighed. "At least until you give birth, and there aren't any complications with you or the baby. If the house is intact, and you still want to leave... then we'll talk, okay?"

"Okay." The word came out thickly as tears started to fall, and the blonde put a gentle hand on the shaking woman's shoulder.

After dinner with Talia and the kids, Daphne wandered into the marketplace. Most of the booths were shut down for the night, but she wasn't surprised to find Nicola still sewing away.

The redhead grunted as she briefly looked up, but the machine didn't stop whirring.

"I hope you don't expect me to treat you any bloody different now that you're at the top of the food chain," she said, voice even.

Daphne grinned. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"And I'm still not paying you."

"Got my own points now, thanks."

"How nice for you," Nicola snapped and motioned to a stack of blue jeans to her left. "Those need patching."

Daphne chuckled and patted the older woman on the back before collecting the bundle of pants. She worked into the night, long after Nicola had finished and shut down her machine, brusquely reminding her to clean up after herself. She'd helped the seamstress complete her workload and then made a flower print boho-style dress for Brody to give to the baker's daughter.

Daphne was just folding the finished garment when the steel door to the marketplace opened. She smiled at the deliberate bootfalls, knowing exactly who'd sought her out in the deserted area after hours.

"Puttin' in some fuckin' overtime, strawberry?" Negan drawled, leaning on one of the tables. His eyes raked her lithe form, clad in a short beige dress that showed off her luscious legs. From the way she was standing he could just see the bandage on her thigh, and heat rose in him at the many ways he'd marked her as his own.

She shot him a wry smile. "Well considering how uncomfortable it is to sit down, I figured I'd get some work done instead of just standing around."

He put his hands in his pockets and whistled innocently, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

She threw a ruler at him and it bounced off of his chest, clattering to the table. He didn't even look down at it, instead locking eyes with her. His expression went from amused to aroused within half a second and his smouldering gaze made her weak in the knees.

He growled. "Get the fuck over here."


	30. XXX - Release Me

Daphne turned towards Negan, the table separating their heated bodies feeling like a vast abyss. She put her hands flat on the smooth wooden surface, leaning forward to allow him an ample view of her cleavage.

"Shouldn't you be getting your beauty sleep after such an exciting day?" she teased, and he grinned wolfishly at her.

"I'm fuckin' beautiful whether I sleep or not." He mimicked her stance, and she tried to ignore the flex of his biceps as he leaned forward.

She would have fared much better had he been wearing his jacket.

Who was she kidding? No she wouldn't.

"I don't think that sore little ass of yours is in any fuckin' position to be disobeying me right now," Negan growled, noting that she hadn't moved to follow his command.

"You said when we got home you were going to worship every inch of me 'fucking proper'," Daphne pouted playfully. "Not spank me on a sewing table."

He'd been right that she was sore, but the image in her head of him bending her over right there made her wet. Was there nothing this man could do that wasn't sexy?

He leaned even closer. "I also said you'd fuckin' strip for me."

It took all of her willpower not to launch herself across the table right then and devour him. But she was quickly learning that this game they were playing was oh so fun.

"Then have a seat, sailor," she purred, and he took his bottom lip between his teeth with a tiny moan of appreciation. He snatched a chair from the stand behind him and parked it facing her, plopping down in it like the relaxed King that he was.

Daphne lifted a creamy thigh to rest on the table, reaching up to pull the elastic from her hair. She drew it tantalizingly slow down her long blonde locks, releasing the waves from their prison to cascade down her shoulders.

She laid on her back, perpendicular to him, and stretched both legs straight up into the air. She bent one, the fabric of her dress slipping up enough that he could glimpse white lace panties.

Negan smirked. As if she'd worn those without the intention of him seeing them.

She slowly unzipped the combat boot on her bent leg, hooded eyes watching him as she slid it from her foot. Beneath was a knee high white sock, and he chuckled. Professor and student, indeed.

Daphne stretched that leg up and bent the other, repeating the boot removal. Once finished, she sat up and turned towards him, feet dangling from the edge of the table.

She spread her legs, the skirt falling over his view of her panties, but his eyes were drawn up to her fingers hooking under one strap of her dress. She drew it ever so slowly down her shoulder, whimpering a little for effect, and Negan realized his cock was painfully hard.

She smiled slyly at the apparent bulge in his jeans and slid the opposite strap down, the dress only held up by the swell of her breasts. She ran her hands through her hair, tilting her head back, and took in a deep breath, causing her top to slip down around her waist.

Daphne feigned a surprised noise as her tits broke free of their prison. She danced her hands down her throat to drape over her chest, ghosting her fingers over her tight nipples. She moaned for real, the contact causing her pussy to clench in arousal.

The tenderness there was intense, but not unpleasant, bringing a rush of memories of Negan pounding her mercilessly.

He, too, was imagining the same moment, and it was taking every ounce of willpower not to slam her down and take her again. But he was very much enjoying this show, and wanted to see how far his little strawberry would take it.

Daphne's tongue darted out to moisten her lips as she pinched her nipples, and she rolled her hips. She clenched her thighs together for some friction and whined, causing Negan to groan softly in return.

She slid down to stand in front of him, dress bunched at her hips, and turned around. She bent over the table until her breasts were mashed against the wood, and reached back to slowly pull the dress down her legs.

Her ass was still pink from the day's ministrations, half covered in thin white satin. He could see the fabric covering her pussy was clearly wet, and he brought a fist to his mouth.

When she turned around to see him sitting uncomfortably, about to bite down on his own hand, she got down on her knees.

"Pull out your cock," she breathed.

"Fuck no, babe," Negan drawled, though his voice was hoarse. "I said I'd worship you, and I don't break my fuckin' promises." He stood and scooped her up with effortless grace, throwing her over his shoulder.

Daphne shrieked as her world turned upside down, and clutched the back of his shirt to try to steady herself.

"What are you doing?" she asked as he kicked open the marketplace doors, striding into the hallway. He just laughed in response, swatting her ass that bumped along next to his face.

When he started up a flight of stairs, she was pretty sure he was taking her up to his room. Which was a nice gesture save for the humiliating way he was transporting her and the fact that her clothes were strewn all over Nicola's floor.

Negan burst out of the stairwell into a hallway.

"Hey, boss, thanks for the avocado," Simon said, saluting him from a couch to the right. As they passed, he chuckled when he realized who the woman in the white panties was and waved. "Hi, Daphne."

She covered her face in embarrassment and laughed. "Hi Simon," she replied, voice muffled by her hands.

They disappeared around a corner and she pinched Negan's side as hard as she could.

"Ow, fuck!" he groaned as he started to trot up the last flight of stairs to his suite. "That's a surefire way to get yourself dropped on your fuckin' head, strawberry," he warned.

Daphne pouted and smacked his ass, earning her extra jostling as he jogged to his room. "You suck."

He kicked the door shut behind him and flipped her down onto his soft bed.

She meant to scowl up at him but the sexy grin on his face quashed her embarrassment and brought back her libido full force.

He smirked and hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, dragging them down her lean legs with excruciating slowness. After dropping them on the floor he held her white clad ankle up, gently kissing the inside of her knee.

Negan drank her in with his eyes as he moved up her thigh, all heaving chest and hooded eyes. Her blonde hair splayed out around her head, a stark contrast to the black silk sheets. Her arms were at her sides, fingers clutching the sheets.

Daphne watched him lave her skin with his lips and couldn't believe this was same man that had taken her so roughly. He was staring at her with those amber eyes like she was a goddess to be savoured and her heart flip flopped in her chest.

He reached the bandage on her inner thigh and placed a sweet kiss there. He nipped at the sensitive skin above it and she gasped, bringing a mischievous smile to his face.

"I can't wait to see my fuckin' name scarred into this perfect skin," he murmured against her, and she thought she might die of arousal.

He lowered her leg to the bed and knelt of the floor, lips now so close to her pussy that she wanted to just shift into his mouth. He slid his hands around her hips and breathed in the scent of her, an intoxicating honeyed musk that promised ambrosia to his tongue.

"Now strawberry." Negan's voice was soft but laced with warning as his fingers tightened around her flesh. "Spanking that sweet little ass of yours didn't seem to teach you your fuckin' lesson." He placed a kiss to the opposite inner thigh and she fought against the urge to squirm.

"It did, it did," Daphne whimpered, not sure where he was going with this. But she was ready to say or do anything if he would just let her come, just take her clit into his perfect, beautiful mouth.

"Oh, but it didn't." He chuckled, and pulled her legs far enough apart, exposing her folds to his hot breath. "When I asked - no, fuckin' demanded - that you get the fuck over to me, you teased me with your sexy ass tits instead. That was a nut busting striptease for sure, babe, but when I tell you to get the fuck over here, I mean right this fuckin' second." He blew on her poor aching clit. "But I think you did it on purpose, strawberry. I think you want to fuckin' push me, see how far I'll take you."

She squirmed a little, keening at his words, giving him all the answer he needed.

"Yeah, strawberry, beneath that fuckin' hardass dominant facade you like being humiliated by me," he continued, and ran his tongue feather light up her clit, eliciting a surprised squeak. "You want me to fuckin' punish you, huh?"

"Please, Negan," Daphne moaned, desperation evident in her voice.

"You wanna fuckin' come all over my face, baby?" he growled, and she nodded, gripping the sheets and crying out her affirmative. "I'm gonna make you fuckin' come, and then I'm gonna keep making you come until you beg me to fuckin' stop."

The very idea of wanting him to stop touching her was so foreign that it made her stomach tighten. "I won't!"

He chuckled, breath tickling her just right, and it sent chills from her core to every extremity in her body.

"Challenge fucking accepted." And with that, Negan lowered his mouth to her needy clit, sucking it between his lips. She screeched and arched her back, and he growled into her cunt, the throaty vibration sending her crashing over the edge.

Daphne's orgasm hit her like a nuclear bomb, and she writhed against his merciless tongue like her life depended on it. He drew it out, movements slowing as her muscles relaxed, languidly lapping at her.

When she went limp into the sheets, Negan ran his tongue in slow arcs around the sensitive nub, massaging her thighs with his large hands. He was high off of the taste of her, this slice of heaven laid out in front of him to feast upon. She tasted like honey and spice and power and life and he wanted to stay buried in her forever.

She rolled her hips in time with his movements, regaining energy as he started to build another crescendo inside of her. He pulled her thighs wider, flattening his tongue against her to pulse it in delightful flickers.

She moaned low in her throat, overwhelmed with the sensation of his warm wet mouth. He flicked his tongue against her in rapid fire succession, her legs shaking with the force of the nerves dancing along her body.

Her belly tightened and she saw stars this time, pleasure licking at her like tendrils of flame consuming her body. She pulled at her hair as she shrieked her release, and he didn't stop moving against her as she rode the waves under his tongue.

Daphne's arms flopped to her sides, spent for the second time, but he didn't slow. She instinctively tried to wriggle her overly sensitive flesh away from him but he held her still.

Negan snaked a hand over her slick stomach to keep her in place and brought the other under his mouth to probe at her wet heat. He slid two fingers into her, curling them up towards him. He suckled at her clit and tears sprung to her eyes at the intense uncomfortable pleasure.

She hadn't thought that too many orgasms could ever be a punishment, but this was growing quickly into proving her wrong. He wasn't letting up and the burning storm brewing inside of her was almost painful.

She opened her mouth to protest but clamped it shut again, not wanting to give in so quickly. She tried to force herself to relax, but as his calloused fingers rubbed just the right spot a scream tore its way out of her throat.

He watched tears stream from her eyes as she came again, lower half twitching with the force of it. He replaced his tongue with his thumb, slowing the thrust of his fingers, and licked his lips.

"Had enough, strawberry?" he drawled, wolfish grin on his face.

She threw her head back and forth, stubbornness winning out.

"You fuckin' sure?" he hissed, crawling up onto the bed. His fingers continued their onslaught as he kissed up her stomach.

Daphne whimpered, twisting her hips, trying to disengage him from that amazing spot inside her that he'd found.

"Oh I don't fuckin' think so, baby," Negan said with a sly grin. He leaned over her, pressing her legs to the bed with his own as his fingers continued to work. He slid his free hand up over the swell of one perfect breast to rest on her throat, lowering his lips to nip at her flesh. "I told you how this fuckin' ends, and you're gonna beg me to stop making you come."

"Fuck you," she ground out, and reached up to pull at his hair.

He hissed with delight at the pain in his scalp and tightened his grip on her throat. "You think your tight little cunt could handle my cock again?" He had a wicked glint in his eye and she shrieked and shuddered, another orgasm rippling it's way through her lithe body. "Maybe I should fuck your ass instead," he purred, and she moaned, flushing at his words.

Daphne was losing her mind. She jerked his head back with one hand and smacked him clean across the face with the other.

He laughed maniacally, speeding up the pace of his fingers.

She hooked her legs around his back and clutched his shoulders, as if she was riding it out with him. He leaned down and bit into her collarbone, and she couldn't take it anymore.

"Please stop, oh goddddd..." she wailed, and he immediately removed his hands from her. In a swift motion, he flipped beside her, encircling her sweaty heaving body in his strong arms.

She buried her face in his chest, squeezing her thighs together, pussy still pulsing and sore but blissfully relieved to relax.

"You did so fuckin' well, baby," Negan whispered against her hair, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head.

She slapped his arm weakly. "You're a tyrant," she murmured into the sweat dampened fabric of his shirt.

"You fuckin' love it," he drawled, and she grunted in reply.

He wasn't wrong.


	31. XXXI - The Calm Before the Storm

Daphne crept into the marketplace wearing one of Negan's t-shirts that just barely covered her ass. The only sound was the bread oven, but thankfully they weren't in plain view of Nicola's stand.

She'd passed out in the penthouse wrapped in bear arms on silk sheets, and awoke a few hours later a little disoriented. She'd rolled over to admire the sleeping King, sprawled out like a frat boy next to her.

She would never admit to anyone how long she'd laid there staring at him, admiring the perfect line of his jaw or the way his soft mouth looked so relaxed in his sleep.

When she remembered how they'd left her dress and boots behind downstairs she'd had a mild panic attack. Of course she hadn't been shown where her new room was either, hence walking around in so little clothes.

"Defiling my bloody work space," Nicola muttered from behind her, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Daphne gasped, whipping around and putting a hand over her chest for effect.

"You use my thread to make those knickers?" The redhead raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. "Before you got stuffed on my table?"

"Don't worry Nic, I would never 'stuff' a woman in your sacred work space," Negan drawled, swagger in full force as he rounded the corner. "I undressed her here, but I took her upstairs to enjoy her behind closed fuckin' doors."

"I don't give a rat's arse where you're dogging it as long as it's not in my bloody shop," Nicola snapped, but Daphne saw a ghost of a smile on her face as she swept back behind her table.

The blonde picked up her dress and slipped into it, drawing it up under the t-shirt. Negan watched her with a lopsided grin and laughed when she tossed the shirt at his face.

"How did you get put together so fast?" Daphne asked as she zipped up her boots. "You were fast asleep when I left."

He had on his signature outfit, complete with jacket, no hint of sleepiness in his bright amber eyes. "I wasn't," he replied, pretending to check his nails casually. "I was fuckin' curious to see where you were sneaking off to with my shirt."

She rolled her eyes. "Well you can show me where my new room is," she instructed, hand on her hip.

"You sure you don't want me to bend you over this nice sturdy fuckin' table?" Negan asked, loudly enough for Nicola to hear.

"Disrespectful wanker," the seamstress grumbled.

Daphne laughed and smacked his arm. "You're such an asshole."

"Guilty as fuckin' charged." He leaned to the side, lazily motioning for her to walk ahead of him. "Start walking, strawberry, so I can peek at those fine ass knickers on the way up the stairs."

"You have shite taste in men," Nicola called after them, and Negan barked a laugh as he followed his lieutenant out of the marketplace.

Daphne's new room was a far cry from the barracks. She had a double bed, nightstand, wardrobe and couch. It was spacious and simply decorated, with deep green curtains covering the massive windows. She assumed this used to be an office once upon a time from the tiled ceiling.

She also noticed that it was directly beside the sitting area where they'd encountered Simon the night before.

"Am I close enough to hear Arat and Simon trying to have wheelchair sex?" she asked as she stripped out of her meagre clothes.

"If you get sick of listening to it, you're very fuckin' welcome to come sleep up in my room," Negan grinned as he flopped down on the couch. He eyed her pert tits as she dug through the sack of clothes on her bed for a towel.

She recovered her toiletry bag that was buried in the bottom and turned around to find him standing right behind her.

"Bathrooms are three doors down on the left," he said, voice low.

Her heart thudded at his closeness and she cursed her hormones. They'd spent almost more time fucking around than not in the last twenty four hours and this attraction didn't show any signs of ebbing.

"You should probably clean yourself up too." Daphne smirked. "You smell like-"

He cut her off by capturing her lips in a mind numbing kiss, their arms slipping around each other easily. She tasted a hint of herself in his mouth and she moaned, the memory of torturous pleasure flitting through her brain.

A static-laden click broke through their haze, and Negan pulled back at the cheery voice that rang over the walkie talkie clipped to his belt.

"Morning, lovely bitches!" Regina trilled. "I come bearing gifts!"

Daphne chuckled at the flamboyant woman's greeting.

"Welcome back, doll," Negan replied into the handheld machine. "I'd come open the fuckin' door myself but I have to wash all the pussy off of my face." He grinned wolfishly down at his naked companion.

"Don't let me interrupt your breakfast, o wonderful leader of mine!" Regina laughed. "Little Joey's got the door like a perfect gentleman."

"Little fuckin' Joey," he scoffed as he clipped the talkie back onto his belt. He ran a finger over Daphne's nipple and she danced away, wrapping the towel around herself.

"I'm actually looking forward to real breakfast," she said, stomach growling as if to accentuate her point. "And if we start this now we'll miss it and I might die of starvation before lunch."

Negan barked a laugh, and turned to open the door for her. "I cannot deny my fuckin' lady her sustenance," he said with a regal bow. "Enjoy your shower. I'll be fuckin' picturing it."

Daphne paused on her way past him, reaching up to ghost her lips over his ear. "You'd better have your hand wrapped around your cock while you do," she whispered, and then sashayed off down the hallway.

He took his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched her graceful gait. This woman was going to be the death of him.


	32. XXXII - Breakfast

Daphne wandered into the mess hall, clean and clad in skinny jeans and a tank, hair in a thick braid down her back.

Regina stood next to Talia, bouncing up and down with the baby. Arat grinned deviously up at the approaching blonde. She set a plate of food in front of Simon, who had his wheelchair parked at the end of the table, little Belle perched on his lap.

"Toast, toast!" She clapped her hands with glee at the moustached man's plate and he laughed.

He sighed with exaggerated false disdain. "I suppose you can have some of my toast."

"You can say no, if you don't want her to eat your food," Talia said with a giggle.

"As if anyone can say no to this face," Simon scoffed, and Daphne laughed as she took a seat next to Patrick.

"Morning, Daphne," Arat greeted with a toothy grin.

"Oh!" Regina over-exaggerated noticing the addition to their table. "Hi there, you must be Breakfast."

"You guys are all assholes." Daphne put her hands up and blushed a bit, though she wasn't really put out. There was no shame in fucking the hottest guy in the building.

"Asshole!" Belle declared through a mouthful of bread, and Simon choked out a laugh.

"Oh honey, that's not a nice word to say," Talia scolded gently, but she was smiling.

"Daphne said it first," Patrick piped up.

His mother pointed her fork at him. "It is a grown up word."

He scowled.

"You're right, it wasn't very nice," Daphne amended. "But Simon, Arat and Regina are not very nice. I apologize for calling your wonderful mother an asshole, but not them."

"Apology accepted," Patrick said seriously, and extended his hand. She managed to keep a straight face as she shook it.

"Thanks for defending my honour, little man," Regina said sarcastically, back to making faces at baby Lily.

"I take care of my mom when dad is away." He took a bite of his eggs and Talia looked down at him with warm eyes.

She kissed the top of his head. "My wonderful son."

Daphne turned to Arat. "So what's on the roster today?"

"Negan's got a list of a bunch of places to scout out," the dark eyed woman replied. "Some of the Nomad victims want to go home, so he wants us to make sure they have homes to go back to."

Daphne's heart skipped a beat. "Really?" Ariadne must have talked to him. She hadn't been sure how to tell him that she offered his manpower to do it, but it seemed that he offered it himself.

"Yeah, there aren't many, and we're just going to go in pairs to stay low key," Arat explained.

"How do you guys find out about this stuff so early?" The blonde sighed, taking a thoughtful bite of her toast. "I literally saw him this morning-"

"Breakfast," Regina cut in, complete with air quotes, and Simon choked on his eggs in his mirth.

"-and he didn't tell me my itinerary for the day," Daphne continued as if she hadn't been interrupted.

Regina giggled. "Because your itinerary was being-"

"If I am paired with her I'm going to kill myself," Daphne interjected.

Arat looked far too amused. "Enjoy hell, baby."

As it turned out, the reason Daphne's coworkers knew their daily duties before her was because they all carried radios. Negan would do a wake up call with instructions if they hadn't been previously given.

She smirked when she saw him waiting out front for her, wiggling an antenna'd black box in her direction.

She raised an eyebrow. "You know you could have just told me the plans this morning."

"I was a little fuckin' preoccupied with your fantastic fuckin' tits, strawberry," he said with a lopsided grin.

"You're the worst boss ever," she teased, and he feigned offense, putting a hand over his heart.

"That fuckin' hurts, baby," he said. "And here I brought you a present."

She held out her hand expectantly, wiggling her fingers like a kid waiting for a present. "So this run." Daphne raised her eyes to his. "I meant to talk to you about it."

"No fuckin' worries doll, Ariadne briefed me." Negan waved his hand noncommittally. "I don't want to keep anyone here that doesn't want to fuckin' be here."

She raised an eyebrow. "So you're not upset that I told them we'd do it without asking?"

He barked a laugh. "If I didn't want to do it I would have shut that shit down faster than a two dicked dog at a bitch festival," he assured her. "I know you didn't get a fancy fuckin' booklet on how to do your job, but part of it is taking care of the people here. Ariadne knows that and that's why she brought me the fuckin' paperwork."

"Okay." She smiled. "Okay, good."

He leaned in, almost conspiratorial. "Would it really have fuckin' stopped you had I said no?"

"No," she admitted. She clipped the radio to the waistband of her jeans. "So can I take the crossbow with me?"

"Shit no!" Negan bellowed a laugh. "You fuckin' suck with that thing. Plus this is low key recon, not some trigger happy fuckin' pillaging."

Daphne pouted, and he leaned down, lips ghosting her ear.

"Put that fuckin' lip away before I bite it off," he growled.

She shivered. "I'd like to see you try," she challenged.

He hissed his bottom lip between his teeth. "Fuckin' brat," he said with menace in his tone, and she giggled.

"You two are disgusting," Arat's voice crackled over the radio, and they laughed, turning to see her sitting on the hood of a Jeep by the front doors.

"Let's go, baby girl!" Regina called, waving them over with her hands. "If we hurry you can be Dinner tonight!"

Daphne put a hand on her forehead, sighing in feigned frustration. "Can I please take the crossbow?"


	33. XXXIII - Family

"So what's your story, morning glory?" Regina asked as she adjusted the rear view mirror for her Amazonian height.

"Didn't you get my story from Michelle?" Daphne raised an eyebrow, reclining her seat a bit. She spread the map out on her lap, to double check their route. She'd swapped with Simon to make sure she had Mel's house. She hoped she could find what the woman was looking for, so she'd decide to stay to raise her baby.

"I got that you ditched a community to ride off with Simon because you wanted Negan's kickass crew to run amok with." Regina put a finger to her chin for a thoughtful effect. "What I'm having a hard time reconciling is that the same girl that stone cold sold out Dwight and Sherry is also a social justice warrior for a bunch of rape victims. Who are you?"

Daphne blinked, more than a little surprised. She could ask the same thing. The bubbly woman that had been poking fun at her all morning was a far cry from someone who wanted to have this serious conversation about motivations.

She took a deep breath. "I don't really know how to answer that."

"It's not that I think you've done wrong," Regina continued. "It's just a little unsettling how integrated you've become in such a short time. These people are my family, you understand?"

"I do." Daphne nodded. "I guess it's just hard to explain. I spent a lot of time not wanting to deal with people that couldn't protect themselves. I've been alone mostly, because I was just looking out for myself. I took a chance with Simon because it felt like the Sanctuary could offer me a place amongst strong people that weren't just surviving, but thriving. And I was right. The Saviors are a badass bunch and Negan has built the closest thing to society than I've seen so far." She licked her lips and took a deep breath. "I wanted to be a part of that. I didn't want to just be some worker, letting others protect me. I wanted to be a part of the elite. And I lucked out, finding my way in and taking out betrayers in the process. At first I did it to secure myself a cushy position, but after meeting Negan...

"After getting to know people, Saviors and workers alike, and seeing the way the Sanctuary really works... I've realized that the people that live here are just as strong as the rest of us, because they've chosen this life for themselves. They've chosen to live under Negan and have a life, trusting us to keep them safe and fed. Having that kind of responsibility... seeing how it affects people... I understand now that it's just as important to take care of people as it is myself." Daphne let out a whoosh of breath, surprised at herself. She hadn't really reconciled any of that in her own head, and she couldn't deny it felt good.

"And fucking the boss, of course," Regina added with a devious glint in her eye, and just like that, the tension in the car melted away.

Daphne couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, that's an unexpected perk."

"So, now that I know you're loyal to the cause, I need your opinion on something," the mohawked lieutenant pulled a small box from the side pocket of her khakis. "Arat likes it, but she's not like a girly girl, so..."

Daphne took the box and opened it, jaw dropping at the glittering ring inside.

"Well?" Regina pressed, sounding nervous.

The blonde held it up to the sunlight. "Jesus, it's beautiful." It was a rose gold band with five diamonds delicately set into it.

"Isn't it?" Regina blurted excitedly. "I've been tearing apart jewellery stores for months! Gavin had a good haul of stuff for me to pick through when I picked up his load yesterday, and I knew this was the one as soon as I saw it."

Daphne closed the box and slipped it back into her companion's pocket. "It's perfect. Michelle is going to love it. When are you proposing?"

"I was going to wait until the end of the month when my crew goes back to the outpost but I don't think I can." Regina was practically vibrating with excitement. "Though we can't have the wedding until their month is done. Negan's got a security team to watch the outpost for a week so we can all be here for it."

Daphne grinned. "You get to have a wedding?"

"Oh yes." The mohawked woman winked. "And Simon tells me you have access to some really pretty white satin and lace."

"Assholes, all of you," the blonde retorted, but she wasn't angry. She'd never thought she'd have this kind of camaraderie with anyone in her life, even pre-apocalypse. Having these people regarded as family made so much sense to her, and she couldn't help but feel her heart swell a bit that they'd taken her into the fold.

Static crackled through both radios and Daphne held hers up, turning up the volume. There was a click and then silence.

She furrowed her brow. "Do we have some kind of code?"

"Not really." Regina shrugged. "Sometime soon you should probably take a look at the outpost list, but unless you're travelling within radio range of them you won't be chatting anyway."

"Who could reach us from here?" Daphne studied the map. "Just Gavin and Paula?"

"Probably, they can reach each other with in-house radios in case of emergency but the handhelds don't go as far." Regina shrugged. "Might have just been one of our other run rats sitting on the button."

Arat and Simon had each been paired with a Savior, making three recon teams. Daphne had supposed she got a lieutenant partner because she was new, but she suspected the woman had specifically requested this so that they could have their talk.

"-fuck, anyone?" A female voice broke through on the radio, still a bit crackly.

"That's Paula," Regina slammed on the brakes as Daphne hit the talk button.

"It's Daphne, what's up? Over?" She wasn't sure if they used normal radio etiquette, but it seemed like the thing to do.

"Who's with you? We have a serious fucking situation here, over," Paula replied.

Regina immediately punched the gas, tires squealing their protest against the pavement.

Daphne's heart pounded in her chest. They'd just gotten there the day before, what could have possibly happened in 24 hours? "Regina's with me, Arat and Simon are out too but I don't know if they're within range, over."

"Fucking pussies came in at night and killed everyone in their sleep." Paula's voice was getting clearer. "I've got Chell, Molly, and Donnie, and two hostages, but one of them shot Donnie and I don't know if he'll make it." Her voice cracked and Regina swerved around a corner so fast that Daphne had to brace herself to avoid smacking her head into the window. "The fuckers have Primo. They want to trade, but I think they're tracking us."

Regina paled, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Where are you?" Daphne fought hard to keep her voice steady. "Over."

"We're at the slaughterhouse," Paula replied. "We've got an old bitch and a pregnant chick, significant leverage but I don't think these assholes mean to do this honourably. Over."

"We're on our way," Daphne promised. "Tend to Donnie, keep us posted, we're on our way, over." She let go of the button and furiously stared down at the map. "We need to send somebody home for backup."

Regina focused on the road with murderous eyes. "Unless you want to tuck and roll right now and run home, that's not going to happen."

"Are there any other channels that we use?" Daphne asked.

"Gavin's crew uses 5 when they're out on runs," the murderous woman suggested, and pulled out her own radio as her passenger switched channels.

Daphne started blurting emergency broadcasts across channel 5, breaking just long enough in between to listen for a reply.

"Chell?" Regina choked out into her own walkie talkie. "Baby? Over?"

"Hey, Gina, watch your driving, huh? Over." Michelle's good-naturedness sounded forced, and the lieutenant swallowed a lump in her throat.

"You know me, babe, I got this," Regina replied with her own forced chuckle. "You lay low, okay? We're coming. Over."

"I know," came the reply, with a pause. "I love you. Over."

At this, tears started pouring from the hard set woman's eyes. "You're such a sap."

Daphne stopped her distress calling in shock.

"I love you baby, see you soon, over." Regina threw the radio on the dashboard and screamed, a sound so full of agony that it broke her passenger's heart.

"This is Gavin, on long range, one of my guys relayed back to me that Paula's outpost has been compromised, repeat, Paula's outpost has been compromised, sending backup to the slaughterhouse, repeat, Paula's outpost has been compromised..." Gavin's voice came over the main channel and both women let out a sigh of relief.

"That'll reach home and everyone out and about," Regina said, skidding around another corner. "Just hold on, hold on..." She whispered her words like a prayer.

Daphne took in a deep shuddering breath, trying not to panic. Adrenaline thrummed through her veins like wildfire and she clutched the radio like it was her only lifeline.

In a way, it was.


	34. XXXIV - End of the World

"We're about twenty minutes out, how are you guys holding up, over?" Daphne asked, still wired for sound. She'd rummaged through the artillery box in the backseat for some bigger guns, and they were set up for an all out battle.

"As well as we can be, over," Paula replied, voice crystal clear now.

Daphne nodded. "How many of them raided the outpost, do you know? Over?"

"Eight, maybe?" Her voice was comforting, just knowing they were still alive. "The scruffy guy with a heavy southern twang seems to be the ringleader, he's the one I've been talking to. If he's killed Primo I swear to fucking- Donnie!" The click of the connection ending had a sound of finality to it that made Daphne's stomach sink down into her toes.

"Paula?!" Regina screamed into her radio, and Daphne winced at the reverberation through her own. "Paula what's happening?!" There was only static to answer them and the mohawked woman threw her radio in frustration, the clatter of it hitting the dashboard echoing in their heads like a gunshot.

"Paula?" Daphne tried to keep her voice firm. "Paula, come back, over." Her hand shook as she listened, straining her ears as hard as she could for something, anything.

A low moan eased its way out of Regina's throat, a foreboding pained noise that made her passenger's arms break out in gooseflesh.

"It's okay," Daphne said, though her unsteady voice betrayed her worry. "They're okay."

When they reached the slaughterhouse and there was no vehicle in sight, Daphne's feeble attempts to be positive evaporated.

The two adrenaline and terror-fueled lieutenants snatched up automatic rifles and dove out of the vehicle. They stayed low to the ground, but there was no attack. There was nothing but the wind in the trees, and the far off caw, caw of a crow.

Regina reached the slightly open door first, and eased it wide with the barrel of her gun. She ducked into the dark hallway and Daphne followed, covering behind them.

Walker groans filled the concrete hallway and the knot of anxiety in Daphne's belly tightened.

"No," Regina whispered the word, and broke into a run.

Daphne cursed and whipped around, face draining at the sight of Paula's lifeless body, impaled on a spike amidst a group of chained undead.

Regina's scream echoed from the other room, then deep gut wrenching sobs, and the blonde knew in that moment the reality of the situation.

Their friends were dead. Their family.

The radio crackled at her hip, and hearing it reverberate from Paula's belt was a cold reminder.

"Arat, ten minutes out, over," came the stern voice from the other end.

Daphne shakily pressed the button. "They're dead." It came out in a broken rasp, and she cleared her throat. "I'm doing a sweep of the slaughterhouse but they're all dead." She took a deep breath, straightening her spine. She knew she actually did have to do a sweep, to make sure there weren't any nasty surprises waiting for them.

"Okay," Arat said, sounding subdued. "I sent Simon back for help, but haven't heard anything yet, over."

Daphne clenched her jaw, anger starting to rise in her chest. "I don't think we're going to need it." This wasn't fucking okay.

She moved slowly, checking every nook and cranny. At the end of the hall lay a zombified Donnie, missing the top half of his face. He must have turned and surprised Paula while she'd been talking to her backup.

Her backup that hadn't made it in time.

Daphne peered into the room to the right and saw some ropes coiled around two pipes. It looked like the hostages had gotten out. Old bitch and pregnant chick, Paula had said, and she filed that information away for later.

Against the far wall was a body, and Daphne's blood ran cold when she recognized Molly's favourite navy and white striped cardigan. She knelt and slowly rolled the woman over, revealing a severely crushed skull. They'd beaten her to death with something.

Lily's chubby face sprang to the forefront of Daphne's mind, and she swallowed the thick ball of emotion in her throat, patting Molly's shoulder gently before standing up.

The echo of sobs turned into heavy gasps, and the reluctant lieutenant made her way back down the hallway to the remaining room.

Regina had collapsed to the floor, her legs splayed in a pool of blood as she cradled Michelle's lifeless body in her arms.

She'd been shot in the head. These assholes had been nothing if not efficient.

Crackle. "Clear?" Arat asked through the radio.

"Clear," Daphne replied. "Should we go case the outpost? Over."

"That's the plan," came the response. "We're under strict instructions not to engage Hilltop. Gavin is on his way over there now to have a chat with Gregory. Come on outside, over."

Before the Daphne could figure out how to gently remove her coworker from this room, Regina took a deep breath and shifted to her knees. She placed a kiss on Michelle's forehead and slipped the rose gold ring onto her lost lover's finger.

"You would have been a beautiful bride," she whispered, and then got to her feet, donning her guns once more. She strode past her living companion purposefully, steel in her normally bright eyes.

Daphne followed her silently, pausing at Paula's corpse to look upon the woman who'd been her first real friend at the Sanctuary. The woman who had taken her into the Savior's world, and shown her who she was meant to become.

Daphne clenched her jaw, blue eyes full of molten silver, and exited the slaughterhouse.

There would be vengeance.

**A/N: I hated writing this.**


	35. XXXV - Silence

Flames licked the sky hungrily, consuming the slaughterhouse in a fiery grave. It would be a tomb of ashes for their fallen friends.

They'd found Primo, gunshot to the head, sprawled just outside the front door of the outpost. They'd brought him back to Molly and Simon had pulled up just as Regina was lighting the match.

The moustached man stood tall on his good leg as the building burned. The concrete shell would remain, but the crates inside and the roof would ensure incineration of everything else.

Arat took his hand as she stared into the flames, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. Regina knelt in the dirt, tears wet on her cheeks, eyes closed against the heat. Daphne fought her own tears, not ready to deal with this just yet.

She wanted to go home. Lock herself in her room with a bottle of whiskey. Smash something.

They convoyed home, Daphne driving what had been Paula's truck. She found Primo's Black Sabbath album in the CD player and screamed along to it three times over the entire way.

She cut the music as they approached the Sanctuary, and gave Joey a somber nod as she passed him at the gate.

Negan stood with a handful of Saviors by the front door, and stepped forward at the lieutenants' approach. Ariadne was behind him, red-eyed and pale faced, Simon's empty wheelchair in hand.

Regina flew out of the Jeep, leaving the door wide open. Negan opened his arms and she leapt into them, clutching his jacket in an almost violent way.

Daphne relinquished the truck to Joey, who had decided he was on parking duty to give himself something to do.

It was eerily silent as Arat led Simon limping toward the group, Daphne in step with them. The other two Saviors that had been paired with them went straight into the bigger group, exchanging quiet hugs.

A sob ripped it's way from Regina's throat and Negan held her tightly as she gasped something unintelligible into his neck.

"It's okay baby girl," he crooned, and what was left of Daphne's heart shattered at the sight. "Shh, it's okay, it's okay."

Ariadne manoeuvred her way around Simon, and Arat lowered him into his chair. She nodded to the nurse and took the handles, wheeling him inside the front doors.

"Does Talia know?" Daphne asked the short nurse quietly, and the woman nodded, taking in a ragged breath.

"She hasn't told the kids yet." Ariadne crossed her arms as if she were cold, even in the warm sun. "She's buzzing around like a manic bee, tending to the pregnant women with Lily on her hip."

"Trying to keep busy," Daphne said, eyes still on Regina. "It'll catch up with her hard."

"I'll be there," the nurse promised, and she patted the lieutenant's arm softly. "I'll let you know when's a good time to visit." She turned to slip back inside just as Regina was recovering herself, pulling back from Negan's embrace.

"Are there still Nomads left?" she asked, wiping her eyes and letting out a deep breath.

Negan grinned. "Oh yes, there are lots to fuckin' choose from," he told her, spreading his arms.

"I'll take the biggest one, in the biggest room." Regina bounced back and forth on the balls of her feet, stretching her arms out. "And have one on reserve in case the first doesn't live long enough."

Daphne headed upstairs as Negan led Regina down to the cell block. She took them two at a time, all the way up to his penthouse, hoping to pilfer a bottle of something strong to take back to her room.

She burst inside, out of breath, and stopped short at the squeak of surprise from the bed.

A wide eyed redhead in a black dress sat curled up on the middle of Negan's bed, looking extremely uncomfortable at the sight of the woman who had been picking off wives.

"Are you supposed to be in here?" Daphne asked casually, turning towards the bar in the corner.

"Um, yeah, Negan asked me to wait here in case Regina needed me," the woman replied, wringing her hands.

The blonde raised an eyebrow. "He whores out his wives to his lieutenants?" She plucked a full bottle of Irish whiskey from the shelf.

"No, no," the redhead said quickly, putting her hands up. "I'm a massage therapist."

"Ah, Frankie, right?" Daphne cracked open the bottle and took a long swig, relishing in the harsh burn on her sore throat.

"Yes." The black clad woman picked at the hem of her dress, avoiding eye contact.

"Well, Frankie, Regina is venting her misery by beating people to death in the basement." The blonde spread her arms, reminiscent of her swaggering leader. "So you're off the hook for now." She took another deep drink, and walked to the balcony, opening the ridiculously ornate glass doors.

She managed to climb the ladder with the bottle still clenched in her fist, and stood atop the Sanctuary in the blazing sun. It wasn't fair how beautiful the weather was. She wanted thunder and lightning and rain pelting her face.

Negan found her an hour later, sporting the beginnings of a sunburn, trying to shoot an empty whiskey bottle with the crossbow. The wooden table was in splinters all over the place, as if a tornado had hit it.

"Strawberry," he began, but immediately ducked when she turned to face him with the crossbow loaded. "Point that thing at the fuckin' ground!" he cried, and she lazily dropped her arm, eyes glazed.

"Not like I could fuckin' hit you anyway," she slurred, and sat down hard on her ass. "Ow."

Negan strode over and plucked the weapon from her limp hand, leaning it against the couch. He hooked an arm under her and dragged her, staggering, over to a copse of shade. He sat her down with her back to the bricks and plopped down next to her, dropping his jacket next to him.

"S'Regina ok?" Daphne asked, head rolling back and forth.

"I've got three brand spanking new corpses on the wall, workin' on a fuckin' fourth." He grinned.

She patted his arm weakly. "Y'a good boss." She peeled her eyelids open wide, blue orbs trying to focus on his face. "M'sorry I said you were the worst, y'not, y'the best."

Negan laughed, and pulled her head down onto his shoulder. She wavered a bit but found a comfy spot in the crook of his neck, and he slipped an arm around her waist to steady her.

"I don't fuckin' feel like it today," he admitted quietly, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

She barely heard him in her haze, and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of leather and cigars and Negan.

The scent of home.


	36. XXXVI - Buried

Flames licked the sky hungrily, consuming the slaughterhouse in a fiery grave. It would be a tomb of ashes for their fallen friends.

They'd found Primo, gunshot to the head, sprawled just outside the front door of the outpost. They'd brought him back to Molly and Simon had pulled up just as Regina was lighting the match.

The moustached man stood tall on his good leg as the building burned. The concrete shell would remain, but the crates inside and the roof would ensure incineration of everything else.

Arat took his hand as she stared into the flames, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. Regina knelt in the dirt, tears wet on her cheeks, eyes closed against the heat. Daphne fought her own tears, not ready to deal with this just yet.

She wanted to go home. Lock herself in her room with a bottle of whiskey. Smash something.

They convoyed home, Daphne driving what had been Paula's truck. She found Primo's Black Sabbath album in the CD player and screamed along to it three times over the entire way.

She cut the music as they approached the Sanctuary, and gave Joey a somber nod as she passed him at the gate.

Negan stood with a handful of Saviors by the front door, and stepped forward at the lieutenants' approach. Ariadne was behind him, red-eyed and pale faced, Simon's empty wheelchair in hand.

Regina flew out of the Jeep, leaving the door wide open. Negan opened his arms and she leapt into them, clutching his jacket in an almost violent way.

Daphne relinquished the truck to Joey, who had decided he was on parking duty to give himself something to do.

It was eerily silent as Arat led Simon limping toward the group, Daphne in step with them. The other two Saviors that had been paired with them went straight into the bigger group, exchanging quiet hugs.

A sob ripped it's way from Regina's throat and Negan held her tightly as she gasped something unintelligible into his neck.

"It's okay baby girl," he crooned, and what was left of Daphne's heart shattered at the sight. "Shh, it's okay, it's okay."

Ariadne manoeuvred her way around Simon, and Arat lowered him into his chair. She nodded to the nurse and took the handles, wheeling him inside the front doors.

"Does Talia know?" Daphne asked the short nurse quietly, and the woman nodded, taking in a ragged breath.

"She hasn't told the kids yet." Ariadne crossed her arms as if she were cold, even in the warm sun. "She's buzzing around like a manic bee, tending to the pregnant women with Lily on her hip."

"Trying to keep busy," Daphne said, eyes still on Regina. "It'll catch up with her hard."

"I'll be there," the nurse promised, and she patted the lieutenant's arm softly. "I'll let you know when's a good time to visit." She turned to slip back inside just as Regina was recovering herself, pulling back from Negan's embrace.

"Are there still Nomads left?" she asked, wiping her eyes and letting out a deep breath.

Negan grinned. "Oh yes, there are lots to fuckin' choose from," he told her, spreading his arms.

"I'll take the biggest one, in the biggest room." Regina bounced back and forth on the balls of her feet, stretching her arms out. "And have one on reserve in case the first doesn't live long enough."

Daphne headed upstairs as Negan led Regina down to the cell block. She took them two at a time, all the way up to his penthouse, hoping to pilfer a bottle of something strong to take back to her room.

She burst inside, out of breath, and stopped short at the squeak of surprise from the bed.

A wide eyed redhead in a black dress sat curled up on the middle of Negan's bed, looking extremely uncomfortable at the sight of the woman who had been picking off wives.

"Are you supposed to be in here?" Daphne asked casually, turning towards the bar in the corner.

"Um, yeah, Negan asked me to wait here in case Regina needed me," the woman replied, wringing her hands.

The blonde raised an eyebrow. "He whores out his wives to his lieutenants?" She plucked a full bottle of Irish whiskey from the shelf.

"No, no," the redhead said quickly, putting her hands up. "I'm a massage therapist."

"Ah, Frankie, right?" Daphne cracked open the bottle and took a long swig, relishing in the harsh burn on her sore throat.

"Yes." The black clad woman picked at the hem of her dress, avoiding eye contact.

"Well, Frankie, Regina is venting her misery by beating people to death in the basement." The blonde spread her arms, reminiscent of her swaggering leader. "So you're off the hook for now." She took another deep drink, and walked to the balcony, opening the ridiculously ornate glass doors.

She managed to climb the ladder with the bottle still clenched in her fist, and stood atop the Sanctuary in the blazing sun. It wasn't fair how beautiful the weather was. She wanted thunder and lightning and rain pelting her face.

Negan found her an hour later, sporting the beginnings of a sunburn, trying to shoot an empty whiskey bottle with the crossbow. The wooden table was in splinters all over the place, as if a tornado had hit it.

"Strawberry," he began, but immediately ducked when she turned to face him with the crossbow loaded. "Point that thing at the fuckin' ground!" he cried, and she lazily dropped her arm, eyes glazed.

"Not like I could fuckin' hit you anyway," she slurred, and sat down hard on her ass. "Ow."

Negan strode over and plucked the weapon from her limp hand, leaning it against the couch. He hooked an arm under her and dragged her, staggering, over to a copse of shade. He sat her down with her back to the bricks and plopped down next to her, dropping his jacket next to him.

"S'Regina ok?" Daphne asked, head rolling back and forth.

"I've got three brand spanking new corpses on the wall, workin' on a fuckin' fourth." He grinned.

She patted his arm weakly. "Y'a good boss." She peeled her eyelids open wide, blue orbs trying to focus on his face. "M'sorry I said you were the worst, y'not, y'the best."

Negan laughed, and pulled her head down onto his shoulder. She wavered a bit but found a comfy spot in the crook of his neck, and he slipped an arm around her waist to steady her.

"I don't fuckin' feel like it today," he admitted quietly, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

She barely heard him in her haze, and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of leather and cigars and Negan.

The scent of home.

Chapter 36

The radio tower was surprisingly spacious, though there was only one swivel chair for the operator. Negan reclined in it lazily, waiting for Gavin to take over for the operator on his end.

Simon leaned against the doorframe, Arat perched on the counter next to him, sharpening her knife.

Regina was the pinnacle of relaxation, laying on the opposite counter with her ankles crossed, admiring her bruised and split knuckles. She'd emerged from the basement covered in blood with maniacal eyes, showered, and then had Carson patch her back up again. At least there were five free cells now.

Daphne stood at the window, sipping at a bottle of water, happy for the sunglasses Arat had found for her. She'd woken up in Negan's bed, still fully clothed, and alone. By the time she'd showered and was starting to feel human again, Arat had come by her room to collect her for the meeting.

"Gavin here, over," came the crackly voice over the radio.

"What did fucknuts have to say over at Hilltop?" Negan drawled.

"Denied involvement, of course," Gavin replied, "but he did tell me about this guy Rick running a community called Alexandria. Had a rough looking redneck with him and a pregnant chick. They wanted to trade ammo for food but Gregory turned them down. He said they weren't happy about it, but left without incident. Over."

Daphne clapped her hands together. "That's got to be the guy. Paula said one of her hostages was a pregnant chick."

"You think he was telling the fuckin' truth?" Negan asked into the mouthpiece, stroking his beard in thought. Lucille leaned against the wall next to him, just as important a participant in this meeting as anyone else.

"That pussy wouldn't admit to being involved in this," Arat spat.

"No," Gavin replied, "but he's well and proper scared. I did notice that Ninja Jesus wasn't present. I'd bet my balls that he was helping at the outpost raid. Over."

Negan rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' Ninja Jesus. I keep meaning to kill that guy." He pressed the talk button. "Okay, I sent Ryan and his crew to do cleanup at the outpost, stay in touch with them in case something fuckin' happens. And keep a close fuckin' eye on Hilltop." He paused. "What about King Fuckin' Tiger? You think he's in on this?"

"No," Gavin responded without hesitation. "He's running his happy little kingdom and very much appreciates the deal we have going on. I'll make sure to ask him some questions when I pick up from him in two days, over."

"Easy peasy lemon squeezy," Negan said, and then swivelled around to face his team.

"Not exactly." Daphne adjusted her stance so that she was fully facing the group. "We know it's called Alexandria, but we don't know where it is or what they're packing."

"Especially if they had extra ammo to try to trade," Arat agreed.

Negan spread his arms with a grin. "Ladies, have you no fuckin' faith? I've got guys crawling the entire fuckin' area, and convoys between so they can daisy chain radio contact all the way back to me like good little girl scouts." He laced his fingers behind his head and leaned even farther back in his chair. "We'll have those cunts pinned in no time and then we can make like a fuckin' baby and head out."

Regina sat up and swung her long legs down to the floor in a graceful arc. "All set then, ring me when it's time to go." She saluted and strode to the door. "I'm borrowing Frankie," she called over her shoulder as she swept from the room.

"I want her back in one fuckin' piece!" he yelled through the door, a smile on his face.

Simon pushed off the wall. "I'm going to go eat. We probably have a long night ahead."

"I'll take you, Wheels," Arat offered, and he grunted at her, but didn't argue.

When the door shut, Negan swivelled to face his still partially hung over lieutenant. "How you feelin' there, strawberry daiquiri?"

"Your nicknames are out of control," Daphne said, and hopped up onto the counter that Regina had vacated. "Who's King Tiger?"

He rolled his eyes. "Ugh, fuckin' Ezekiel. Guy's got horses and speaks in shit-ye-not olde English. Apocalypse has done a fuckin' number on that guy's marbles. Apparently he has a goddamn tiger as a pet."

"That's ridiculous." She rubbed her eyes under her sunglasses. "But pretty badass if it's true." She sighed. "Thank you, for taking care of me. I promise I won't be that useless again."

"We all deal in our own fuckin' way," he said, and it was the closest thing to forgiveness that she felt she was going to get.

"How do you deal?" Daphne asked quietly.

"By burying myself in a good fuckin' woman," Negan replied with a small smile.

She barked a laugh. "Which wife would you like me to fetch for you?" She leaned back on her hands.

He bit his bottom lip as he appraised her, her lithe body stretched out before him on the counter like a feast. He stood and approached her like a predator closing in on its prey.

He put his fists on either side of her thighs and leaned forward, a lopsided grin forming at the hitch in her breath as he did. Her heart pounded at his close proximity and that quickly-becoming-familiar heat rose in her belly.

"I'm not a good woman," Daphne whispered, and he reached up to slide the sunglasses from her face. When blue eyes met amber, the temperature in the room rose ten degrees.

"I'm not a good fucking man," Negan growled, and they came together like a storm.

He clutched her possessively, winding a fist in her hair as they desperately kissed. She circled his hips with her legs, hooking her boots together behind his perfect ass. He snaked a hand under the back of her shirt, his palm leaving fire on her skin.

She grasped the collar of his jacket, devouring his mouth like her life depended on it. He swallowed her moans and started to push her tank top up her back. She shoved his jacket down his shoulders, and they broke their kiss to tear each other's clothes off.

Heavy breathing and the shuffle of fabric were the only sounds as they jerked each other's garments up, down, off. The hard thunk of a boot being kicked at the door. The zzzzzip of jeans opening and the grunts of wriggling out of tight denim.

Negan expertly unclipped the back of Daphne's bra, freeing her breasts to his warm mouth. He took a nipple between his teeth and she gasped as she shoved his boxers down. He groaned into her flesh as she took his massive cock in her hand, pumping it with a tight fist.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and ripped them in half, plunging two fingers into her slick heat.

She cried out at the welcome invasion, but she needed more. She braced her palms against his chiseled chest and shoved him hard. He fell into the chair, rolling backwards to smack into the windowsill.

Daphne was on him before he could react, and she lowered herself onto his thick rod in a swift motion. She grasped the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled his lips back to hers as she rocked against him.

Negan wrapped his arms around her back, crushing her against him, groaning at how deep he was inside of her. She continued to roll her hips and he suckled her tongue, eliciting a whimper.

He reached down and caressed her clit in slow circles with his thumb, and she squealed into his mouth at the sensation. Her nerves were on fire, and being so utterly filled by him made her feel whole.

Her movements became erratic as he manipulated her little bundle of nerves. She threw her head back as an orgasm rippled through her, arching her back over his strong arm. He watched her with hooded eyes, enjoying the sight of her sweat slicked tits bouncing as she writhed against him.

He drew out the orgasm as long as he could and when he felt her muscles relax around his cock, he grabbed her hips in both hands. She braced herself on his knees and started to hop up and down, meeting his shallow thrusts.

Her hair tickled his thighs and her whimpers drove him wild and he wanted to just climb inside her forever.

Negan pushed forward, toppling them off of the chair, managing not to disengage their bodies in the process.

Daphne shrieked as she hit the floor, though he caught the back of her head with his hand. He pushed her knee up to open her further and pumped his hips roughly.

She dug her nails into the back of his neck and he growled, pounding her mercilessly as she held on for dear life.

Her eyes fluttered open and he stared into her, wondering not for the first time where the fuck this woman had come from. He was wholly addicted to her, her scent, the noises she made when he touched her, the feel of her tight pussy milking him for all it was worth.

The intensity in his amber eyes sent her over the edge, and she clenched around him as an orgasm exploded deep inside of her. Waves of pleasure shot from her core all the way to her toes and back again.

He couldn't hold back, and buried himself to the hilt, pulling her flush against him and sitting back. He cried out his release, and their lips met again.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, and they rode out the aftershocks of their union, sitting on the floor of the radio tower.

"I like your way of dealing with things." Daphne breathed into his neck, placing a kiss there.

He chuckled and held her tightly, nuzzling her hair and breathing in deep the calming lavender scent. "Mutually fuckin' beneficial, strawberry."


	37. XXXVII - Fasten Your Seatbelts

Daphne stretched out on the counter with a satisfied groan, taking a deep drag off of her cigarette. Negan shimmied himself under her legs, keeping a hand on her calf as he plucked the smoke from her hand.

"You don't smoke," she teased, bumping his chest playfully with her knee.

"Sometimes when the situation fuckin' calls for it," he replied, puffing a perfect smoke ring into the air.

"Like mindblowing sex?" She giggled, and waggled her fingers to take the death stick back from him. He handed it over and then let his arm drape over her still naked stomach.

They were both spent, and hadn't even had the energy to put their clothes back on.

"Gavin to Sanctuary, come back," the radio crackled.

Daphne bolted upright, jello legs forgotten.

Negan slid off of the counter and plucked the mouthpiece from its holster, bringing it to his mouth. "Whatcha fuckin' got?"

"Letty's group found Alexandria, been watching them from the trees," came the reply. "There's a lot of hubbub, looks like they're planning to go somewhere. It's a pretty fortified community, she says, so we might have better luck ambushing them on the road, over."

Negan looked positively gleeful as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. "Fuck yeah, you guys did good. Give me the coordinates and I want constant updates on their position, how many they are, all the gritty fuckin' details."

"You got it," Gavin said, and started rattling off coordinates.

Daphne snatched up the pencil and notebook from the radio table and scratched them all down. When she finished, she set down the notebook triumphantly, raising her glittering eyes to his.

She took him in wholly in that moment, standing there stark naked, tall, proud, with the most wicked glint in his amber gaze. The King of the Sanctuary, ready to obliterate his enemies. She wanted to dive right back on his cock right there, but the door burst open to reveal Arat and Simon.

"Jesus Christ, is no place sacred?!" The moustached man covered his eyes over dramatically.

Daphne threw her head back in a laugh.

"As if you've never fucked in here." Negan pointed at Simon, turning to reveal his full frontal to them.

"I should know better than to open doors on you." Arat sighed, and turned the wheelchair around. "The amount of times I've been blinded by your dick."

"You mean blessed with the fuckin' holy sight of my dick." Her boss grinned, and wiggled his hips a little to emphasize his point.

Daphne was gasping for air at this point in her mirth, and Arat disappeared back through the doorway.

They were dressed and striding up to the long line of vehicles in less than five minutes.

"All ready, my little rabbits?" Regina trilled excitedly, a teasing tone in her voice.

Negan clapped his hand on her shoulder with a grin, and leaned over the map Fat Joey had spread out on the hood of the leading Jeep.

"So this is where Alexandria is." Joey pointed to a little skull and crossbones he'd drawn. "Letty's going to keep everyone updated on their movements."

"And we cut 'em the fuck off wherever they're goin'," Negan said and spread his arms wide, turning to the massive group of Saviors that were congregating around them. "Ladies and not-so-gentle men, today we lost one of the best motherfuckin' crews the Saviors has ever had. These pussy-assed rats snuck in and murdered an entire outpost in their sleep like dishonourable fucking dickholes. So we're gonna fuckin' treat them like the rodents they are, and play a little cat and fuckin' mouse." He grinned, the maniacal twinkle in his eye not lost on his faithful followers. "Then we're gonna show them that you don't FUCK with the Saviors of the fucking apocalypse!"

He threw up his hands and a roar rose up in the ranks, a rising crescendo that Daphne could feel deep in her belly. Her heart clenched as she screamed with them, all these people ready to wreak vengeance on the people that murdered their friends.

This was it, she realized. This was what it felt like when you had a family.


	38. XXXVIII - First Day on Earth

Nineteen trucks. Twenty four motorcycles. Seven packs of Saviors armed with enough artillery to take over the White House. Every single one of them with white hot adrenaline ravaging their veins.

The enemy was on the move, seven males and four females in an RV. One of the females hadn't looked very well, needing to be supported by two others to get into the vehicle. They were heading northwest, suspected to be going for Hilltop.

The first roadblock on the main road was led by Arat, who sat calmly atop the roof of her truck, munching on an apple like she'd stopped for a family picnic. The rats saw themselves out manned and slowly turned tail to flee down another route.

The second roadblock was Regina's, and she greeted them with a flamethrower and a walker barbecue. The tires of the RV squealed as the rats backed away from the flaming undead shuffling towards them, arms outstretched for an extra warm hug.

The third roadblock, and the one that would really turn the tide for this excellent little game, was Simon's. His leg neatly bandaged beneath his slacks, he stood tall to show no weakness as he smirked beneath his signature moustache. The lead rat got out of the vehicle this time, flanked by a dread-locked woman with a sword and a teenager with an eye patch and a ridiculously large sheriff's hat.

"You treating your people good in there?" Simon drawled, arms crossed. "What if this was your last day on earth?"

The clicks of thirty seven rifles accentuated his point, and sweat dripped from the lead rat's nose. They stared each other down, the Saviors a formidable wall versus the three lone figures on the road.

"What if it's one of theirs?" Simon nodded to the boy, who's visible eye narrowed. "Go on, little mice, get where you're goin'." His face broke into a massive grin, and the mice obeyed, heading back through their maze.

Meanwhile, groups of Saviors sabotaged every single road behind and ahead of the RV, with trees and walkers and cars and anything they could find. The little mice in their rodent ball were successfully corralled, yet still they plotted to outsmart their overlords.

The mice took their sick comrade on a stretcher and took to the woods on foot, sending the RV out as a decoy with a lone driver. It was Letty, the ever watchful scout, that witnessed this, and then the game stepped up to the next level.

It wasn't difficult to subdue the one squishy and afraid mouse driving his vehicle and swing it around right where it was supposed to be. He folded like cookie dough, nose breaking like butter.

Radio silence.

The first whistle was Regina's, as the last rays of sunlight disappeared over the horizon, satisfied with the panicked breathing of the little group stealing through the trees. They scurried as fast as they could with the stretcher.

When more whistles floated through the woods, they gave up on being quiet and bolted, stumbling over roots in the dark, shouting encouragement at each other.

Arat's shriek of a whistle startled them in just the right direction, and the group burst into the clearing.

The end of the maze.

Only there was no cheese here. When the lights came up on ten terrified faces, trapped by the whistling Saviors, they stared into the mouth of justice.

Daphne sat perched on the pilfered RV, legs crossed, leaning on one hand to look down upon the successful experiment below. Rick, the bearded leader, looked up at her with desperation in his eyes, and she returned it with icy calculation. He looked like a man who had tried everything, had believed so hard that he could pull through, only to find that he was well and properly fucked.

She watched them, unable to stay still, banding around the stretcher in a protective bubble, heads darting around like startled chickens.

"Welcome, welcome!" Simon bellowed, spreading his arms in a very Negan-like manner, and the whistling abruptly stopped. "I hope you've all been super fucking nice to each other on your little excursion." He grinned. "Now we'll kindly take your weapons."

"Please," Rick pleaded, voice breathless. "We can make a deal."

"Oh, you already sealed yourself a deal when you snuck into our outpost and murdered a bunch of our men in their sleep." Simon's voice hardened at the second half of his sentence, but then he laughed loudly, causing more than one of Rick's group to startle. "It's hilarious, actually, that you thought taking out that little building would get rid of us. That there weren't more of us." He motioned to the fortress of men and women surrounding them. "Take a look around at all of the faces staring at you right now. I'll give you a pro tip - this still isn't even close to all of us."

Some of them did look around some more, wide eyed. Three of them even had the intelligence to look regretful. One giant of a man with flaming red hair, however, had the audacity to glare at his new captors as if he had something to prove. He caught Daphne's eyes and she winked at him, bouncing her crossed leg casually. His gaze was challenging but he broke it first, continuing to assess his enemies.

"That isn't to say that each and every Savior you killed didn't have a special place in our ranks," Simon continued. "And regardless of how many people stand before you today, and how many are scattered across this great land of the New World Order, we are deeply saddened by the loss of our friends. You have made a fuckload of enemies with your actions, and now you're going to have to deal with the consequences of your actions." He crossed his arms. "Now, if you please. Hand over your weapons."

Rick looked like he was trying not to visibly shake as he removed his gun from its holster. The group gently lowered the stretcher to the ground, and followed his lead, reluctantly pulling their weapons. Saviors swooped in to pluck every last gun and knife, leaving them defenseless to their fate.

Daphne got a good look at the woman on the stretcher, noting how pasty she looked. When she put a protective hand over her belly, the blonde clenched her fist, realizing that this was the pregnant chick. None of the other women looked older than thirty five, so the other hostage Paula had taken must have been back in Alexandria. But this was certainly one of the two.

"Excellent work!" Simon clapped his hands in applause. "We're off to a great start! Now let's see how you do on your next task. I'll need you all over there with your mulleted friend, on your knees." He motioned to the lone driver who'd tried so hard to be a good decoy, blood running from his nostrils and tears shamelessly running from his eyes.

The group hesitated to move, nonchalantly looking to Rick for guidance. Daphne rolled her eyes. Was there even a question that they could make a stand at this point? He was stubborn, for sure, but were they that stupid?

"Come on now, let's make a nice semi-circle," Simon urged, waving them backwards.

Rick let out an almost inaudible moan, turning towards the pregnant girl on the ground. He and a little Asian guy lifted her to her feet, and the group slowly shuffled over to their failure of a teammate.

A line of Saviors spread out behind them to direct them where to kneel. Arat was among them, and she positioned herself directly behind Rick. He was the last one standing, and she cocked her gun.

"On your knees, there," Simon sounded almost gentle. "The lovely lady behind you won't hesitate to strangle you with your intestines, be sure of that."

Daphne snorted, earning more than a few bewildered looks from the kneeling Alexandrians. She wondered how often Simon and Arat did the good cop/bad cop routine.

Rick lowered himself to one knee almost in slow motion, and she studied the helpless desperation in his eyes as he did so. When the second knee hit the dirt, there was a palpable sense of triumph amongst the Saviors. These eleven men and women, the ones responsible for killing so many, on their knees in the dirt ready to be served up on a silver platter.

"Right then, we all comfy cozy?" Simon asked, clapping his hands again. "Okay, let's meet the man!"


	39. XXXIX - Conference at Negan Industries

Negan kicked open the door of the RV with a vicious bang. He descended the steps slowly but deliberately, Lucille thrown casually over his shoulder. Daphne watched him swagger forward, all done up in his leather jacket and blood red scarf. Such a fitting outfit for her favourite superhero.

"Oh, isn't this just a beautiful fuckin' setup," he bellowed, leaning back to emphasize his words. "Did you do this, Simon? Goddamn what a pretty little half moon we got fuckin' goin' on here." He continued moving towards them, appraising each and every Alexandrian with amused hazel eyes. "You should get into interior design, buddy. I'd love a fuckin' setup just like this in my fuckin' living room. A nice curve of traitorous heads for my lady love to pop every fuckin' morning."

He reached the end of the line, where the short Asian guy knelt, and raised an eyebrow, turning on his heel. "We pissing our fuckin' pants yet?" He grinned, and started his slow gait again, this time moving down the line, studying each prisoner as he went. "Oh ho, this one looks like she's gonna start expelling all kinds of nasty shit." He stopped at the pregnant girl, who looked ready to pass out. "You look like absolute fuckin' death. The only proof you're still alive is that you aren't trying to eat my fuckin' face right now. Though you look like you want to, baby." He put his hand to his mouth as if he were letting her in on a secret. "I will tell you I do taste fuckin' delicious!"

Daphne rolled her eyes.

Negan peered down the line of prisoners, and then looked back at the sickly woman, noticing her arms around her midsection. "Oh, shit, I'd bet dollars to chocolate fuckin' doughnuts that you are the pregnant chick I keep hearing so much about." He swung Lucille in a wide arc that made the woman flinch. "Do I ever have a special surprise just for you!"

He motioned over his shoulder at Daphne, who swung her legs down over the side of the RV and hopped to the ground. She adjusted the strap of the crossbow at her back, pulling a stack of photographs from the side pocket of her cargo pants.

"Us girls were really sad that we didn't get invites to the baby shower," she said, voice sweet as honey. "But we brought you a present anyway, because we're nice like that." She held out the first photograph, pointing at one of the smiling faces in it. "This gorgeous mother is Talia, and these are her three kids, Patrick, Belle, and little baby Lily."

The ill woman grimaced.

Daphne enjoyed the discomfort on her face. "This handsome gentleman is their loving husband and father, Primo. He's dead now." She flipped to the next photo. "This is Lily again, with her proud grandmother, Molly." She pointed to Molly's happily laughing face, and the pregnant prisoner turned away.

"Open your fucking eyes!" Regina cried shrilly, and the woman on the ground gasped a frightened sob, complying immediately. The mohawked amazon stepped behind Daphne, watching the exchange with twitching fists.

"Molly, as you know, is also dead," Daphne continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. "Leaving these kids without their father and grandmother. Leaving his wife a widow with three kids by herself. She's back home trying to keep it together so she can take care of a bunch of rape victims we rescued." The blonde cocked her head. "What's your name, preggo?"

"P-please," came the reply, and Daphne slid a handgun from her thigh holster, pointing it at the woman's stomach.

"NO!" The Asian guy leapt forward, scrabbling for purchase in the dirt, but the Saviors behind him were on the ball, on him before he could get too far. "No! Don't, don't!"

"Nope, nope, back in fuckin' line," Negan demanded, ushering him back with Lucille. "I'mma telling you all right fuckin' now, none of you do that shit again. You stay on your knees, in your pretty little fuckin' formation, and you don't. Fucking. Move." He emphasized the last three words with the bat, and a stern look in his eyes. "No fucking exceptions, no get out of jail free card, no fuckin' doctor's notes. I will shut that shit down.

"First one's free. I get it, emotional moment, and I hadn't gone over the fuckin' rules yet. But if you don't want your little Alexandrian fetus to get fuckin' blasted right out the back of ya, I suggest you answer the lady's question." He directed the last comment to preggo.

The pallid woman stared at Daphne helplessly, chest heaving as she struggled for breath. "M-Maggie," she stammered.

The blonde smiled, holstering her gun. "Maggie! See, that's so much better than me mentally referring to you as 'the pregnant bitch', right?" Daphne held up the photos again, flipping to the next one. "You had the luxury of meeting Paula and Donnie. Don't worry, they didn't have any kids for you to feel guilty about orphaning. But Talia's kids are going to be mighty upset that they're gone." She raised an eyebrow. "Are you enjoying your gift? I have one more photo, and this one is a doozy."

Maggie swallowed hard, jaw clenched, and she swayed a little, as if struggling to stay upright.

Daphne hooked a thumb over her shoulder, motioning to Regina. "See this woman behind me that is vibrating with rage?" she asked, and Maggie looked up at the lieutenant who was bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet. "She put a ring on her dead fiancee's finger this morning." She held up Michelle's photo, and Maggie stared at it in silent fear.

"Was it you?" Regina cracked her knuckles. "Was it you or the other bitch that was with you?"

"Carol's gone!" Rick cried, shaking his head at the excited lieutenant. "She disappeared today, left a note, we don't know where she went!"

"Convenient." Daphne rolled her eyes. "And I bet this missing cunt is the one responsible for the deaths of our nearest and dearest? You just sat by, a delicate pregnant little flower, and watched Rambo Grandma massacre your captors?"

Maggie openly sobbed, finally collapsing down on her hands in the dirt. Her hair hung in her face and Asian dude looked like he wanted to jump up again.

"Watch it there, China, don't want to be responsible for somebody getting fuckin' popped," Negan warned.

"He's Korean," the redheaded military looking guy muttered from next to Maggie, and Daphne looked at him, impressed.

"You have giant balls to go with that attitude," she appraised him, and stood up, shoving the photos back in her pocket. "Don't worry, we're not going to kill an expectant mother. It's not your baby's fault that you're a murdering piece of shit."

"You hear that?" Negan waved Lucille in front of the obvious father's face. "Knocking up your lady friend just saved her life!"

"For the next nine or so months, at least," Regina snapped, and cracked her knuckles again. One of the stitches from earlier that day snapped open, and blood trickled down her wrist in a foreboding river.

"Please, just tell us what you want," Rick begged, holding out a hand to stop the Korean guy from interjecting.

"Rick the prick," Negan grinned as his two lieutenants flanked him. "We want justice for our fallen fuckin' comrades." He motioned to the lineup with Lucille. "Unfortunately, not even all eleven of you little shits would add up to even one of my fuckin' men. So where does that leave us, hm?"

Arat kicked Rick in the back, flinging him forward into the dirt. There were gasps and cries of protest as Negan wound his fist in the self-proclaimed leader's hair.

"Don't fuckin' worry, we're not going to kill him," the leather clad boss said, placating his prisoners with a sigh. "My badass babes are gonna beat the holy fuckin' hell out of him, though." He dropped Rick between Daphne and Regina, Arat stalking up behind him, holstering her gun.

"I'm gonna kill you," Rick growled hoarsely, and Negan barked a laugh.

"What the fuck did you just say, prick?" he asked jovially, putting a hand to his ear.

"Maybe not today," the bearded man on the ground sat up as tall as he could. "Maybe not tomorrow... but I will-"

Regina cut off his diatribe with a well placed kick to the jaw. More gasps and protests. Somebody shrieked. Arat was stone-faced as she slammed her boot into his stomach, taking the wind out of him.

"Now, now, remember the fuckin' rules," Negan put a hand up at the remaining Alexandrians. "You can scream, you can cry. Just don't fucking move."

Daphne's fist connected with Rick's cheekbone and there was a sickening crunch. Regina laughed gleefully and kneed him on the other side of his head.

"Please, please, please..." the dark skinned woman who'd been carrying a samurai sword was rocking back and forth, tears streaming down her face as she watched.

"Now Rick, you fuckin' brought this on yourself." Negan started to stroll around the beating circle, his words accentuated by wet smacks and grunts. "For a leader of people, I gotta question your fuckin' intelligence. You went to Gregory — fuckin' Gregory — and my Spidey senses tell me that he spun a fuckin' yarn about the Big Bad Saviors taking his shit. So you, the noble and ever-so-wise Prick of Alexandria, offer to take us out in exchange for a trade agreement."

Arat slammed her boot down on Rick's calf, eliciting his first yelp, and Regina clapped her hands in delight.

"Or maybe it was Preggo over here," Negan pointed the bat at Maggie with a sly grin. "Gregory is an old fuckin' dirty dog, he is way fuckin' better manipulated by women."

Daphne pulled Rick back up onto his knees and he swayed, his face becoming unrecognizable.

"Either way, you all made the fuckin' stupid ass decision to help him out, when what you should have fuckin' done is asked yourselves: why would we trade with Gregoria The Pussy when we could strike a deal with the Big Boys that control his community?" Negan continued, tapping Lucille on the ground for effect. "This is MY fuckin' land, babies, and if I've got Hilltop in the palm of my hand you bet your fat fuckin' asses I've got shit to trade."

Rick spit a stream of blood into the dirt, a few teeth surfing down with it.

"You're killing him!" Samurai screamed.

"Ladies." Negan waved his lieutenants back and knelt down in front of the broken and bleeding man as he wavered, fighting to stay sitting upright.

The teenage boy in the massive hat glared daggers with his one eye, and the leather clad tyrant put a hand on his chest as if he'd been shot.

"Holy fuckin' Christ, if looks could kill," Negan cocked his head, and then turned to Rick. "That's your fuckin' kid, isn't it? Givin' me that same stink eye you were givin' me before my girls turned you into mashed fuckin' potatoes?" He grinned at the kid like they were old friends. "Not even one fuckin' tear, huh? Shit, this one's a future serial killer, that's for damn sure! Creepy as fuck!"

"I'll be serial killing Saviors," the kid said, though his tough words were undermined by the slight shake in his voice.

"Shit, the one eyed Savior killer!" Negan laughed. "I can see the fuckin' headlines now! Oh wait, no I can't, because this is the fuckin' New World Order, kid, and there aren't any fuckin' newspapers anymore."

Rick sputtered again, sounding like he was trying to say something.

"So Rick, here's how it's gonna fuckin' go," Negan interrupted his effort, poking him in the stomach with Lucille. "You work for me now. You belong to me. All of you fuckers belong to me. Alexandria fuckin' belongs to me." He stood up, addressing the lineup as a whole. "When I come a knockin' on your fuckin' door, you're gonna let me in and give me your shit. Hell, I own the fuckin' door. I can tear it right the fuck down. Now I know that this is a big, nasty fuckin' pill to swallow. But swallow it you most certainly motherfuckin' will." He leaned Lucille on his shoulder and shifted his weight to the side, appraising his new belongings.

"Fuck you." Rick's words were garbled from his swollen tongue, but the meaning came across to the tall man standing next to him.

"Are you fucking kidding me with this shit?" Negan asked, exasperated. "I guess you still aren't ready to fuckin' swallow, huh? Do I really need to kill somebody to prove how stone fuckin' serious I am?" He sighed, as if it were putting him out to have to do this.

"No, please, we understand, please," the sword woman begged, leaning forward desperately.

"You understand," Negan agreed, starting to walk along the lineup again. "But Rick doesn't seem to. Or his fuckin' pirate kid, for that matter. Or you, ginger." He stopped in front of the red haired military guy and his face turned sour as he appraised the man's beard. "God, I need to shave this shit," he said as he rubbed at his own face.

"Don't you dare," Daphne hissed, and he barked a laugh.

He winked at her. "You like the fuckin' flavour saver, strawberry?"

She smirked, and he couldn't help but take a beat to admire her in that moment, eyes wild and fists bloody. Bloody for his cause.

"Well, we're not gonna fuckin' kill Rick the Prick in front of his boy," Negan put a gloved hand to his chin in thought, stroking the beard that had recently become a sex object. "Because we don't go orphaning kids all willy fuckin' nilly like some people." He glanced at Maggie, who really looked close to death now. He resumed his stroll with a spring in his step. "We'd better choose fast before Preggo kicks the fuckin' bucket," he said in a singsong voice, swinging Lucille back and forth like a kid warming up for baseball practice.

Regina plopped herself down in front of Rick, reaching out to poke at his busted cheek. He barely reacted, and she smiled brightly at him.

"You know, I think you're much better looking this way," she declared cheerfully, dipping her finger in the fresh blood on his cheek. She dragged it across his forehead, drawing a bright red N on his rapidly purpling flesh.

Daphne prowled back and forth slowly, eyeing the rest of the prisoners with interest. She didn't want to sway Negan's decision, but the cold and bitter part of her longed to see the look on Maggie's face when Lucille cracked open the Korean guy's skull. A father for a father, husband for a husband.

But would that make them the same brand of monster?

"I just can't fuckin' decide!" Negan bounced on the balls of his feet. "The ginger with the attitude? This bulldog of a redneck with the squinty fuckin' eyes? I honestly kind of want to just leash you up and make you my bitch, redneck, breaking you would be a delightful fuckin' pleasure." He put his hands up. "Don't get excited, I didn't mean that in a sexual fuckin' way, gutterslut."

Daphne snickered and Arat rolled her eyes.

"What about you, Lara Croft?" Negan pointed Lucille at a shapely brunette in a form fitting tank top. "You've got some cocksucking lips on you, hot DAMN!" She glared up at him defiantly, and he wiggled the bat in her face. "Nah, I don't enjoy killing women. I mean I'll fuckin' do it, I just don't enjoy it."

The squinty eyed redneck launched himself forward, and his fist connected with Negan's jaw. Daphne leapt without even thinking, knocking her shaggy-haired enemy clean over, swinging the crossbow off of her back on the way down.

She landed on his chest, straddling him, crossbow an inch from his forehead. "I'm pretty fucking awful with this thing," she growled. "But at this range I bet I wouldn't miss."

"Was that a chivalrous act of self fuckin' sacrifice there, bulldog?" Negan asked with a wicked smile, rubbing his jaw. "I'll tell you what. This one's on you. No fuckin' exceptions." He rose the bat and brought it down with a sharp crack on a ginger haired head.

"Abraham! No!" Shrill cries, screams, sobs.

Crunch.

"Mother fucker, takin' it like a champ!" Negan cried maniacally.

"Suck my nuts," Abraham grunted.

His leather clad killer burst out a laugh. "You are one badass fuckin' dude."

Smack. More hysterical noises of disbelief.

Abraham finally fell, but Lucille didn't let up. Negan continued to pound the redhead into a pulpy mess, leaving nothing but a jagged stump where his neck used to be.

"Did I make myself fuckin' clear?" He flicked Lucille, and droplets of blood sprayed across horrified faces. "You think you fuckin' got it?"

The fact that none of them had moved during the ordeal like obedient little kittens was telling. Daphne looked down at the defeated face of the bulldog redneck, and then playfully flicked him on the nose. He didn't even flinch.

"I think they got it," she piped up, and Negan spread his arms to take a deep dramatic bow.

"This was a very productive fuckin' meeting!" he bellowed. "Shit, I think we made some real progress tonight." He twirled his hand in the air in a graceful arc. "Let's head on home, friends! We'll come by in a fuckin' week to collect our shit, so get scavenging!"

Engines roared to life all around them, and Daphne stood up, crossbow still ghosting against her prisoner's face.

"Load him up, strawberry, we need some fuckin' insurance." Negan motioned to her, and she shoved her charge into the waiting arms of two burly Saviors. "We'll take Corpse Bride here too, our doc is far fuckin' better than Greg's discount Carson."

Before it registered to the Alexandrians, Arat and another female Savior scooped up Maggie and hauled her to a waiting van.

"No no no no no please, please don't take my wife!" the Korean guy begged, tears streaming down his face, terrified to move again lest he cost someone their life. "Please!"

"You assholes wanted a deal, so here's your fuckin' deal." Negan said loudly as the last of the Saviors packed themselves up, leaving just the lieutenants standing behind their leader in a silhouetted tableau. "I'll be by every week to take half your shit. If you are not perfectly fucking compliant to my every whim, then I will remove pieces of these two fine Alexandrians and leave them on your fucking doorstep."

His tone was stern, and chills danced up Daphne's spine. She straightened her shoulders, joining her companions in their stand against the enemy.

Negan's lips curled into a shit eating grin and he leaned forward. "Now, scurry off and get me some fuckin' cheese, little rats!"


End file.
